Helia Potter and the penpal from the wizarding world
by Narsha
Summary: Did your world ever turned upside down? Helia Potter's did. One day, the 11 year old girl discovers she is not just the unwanted child from the Dursley family. But because becoming a witch was probably too simple, she had to do it while juggling with politics and a family business. Hopefully, with the help of her penfriend, and her classmates, she might survive the school year
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone,_

 _Welcome to this new story on a fandom I wanted to do for soooo long. I had started writing a Fem/Harry fanfiction about three years ago, but my PC had crashed and I lost many works I had started on it._

 _Now I'm trying it again, especially after the story though a little more. I hope you'll like it._

* * *

Helia wished she could know when the Dursleys fell asleep. Until they were, she couldn't try to sneak into the kitchen and raid the fridge. They'll assume Dudley was responsible, as always. However, if Vernon was calming his nerves with a glass of brandy…

Helia shuddered. Her fingers traced the little bumps on her ribs where the man had cracked them the last time she hadn't been _normal_ enough. There were other scars, of course, but they had faded over time. She had always been good at healing. A blessing when Dudley or Vernon were in a mood. They often were in a mood when things ran _abnormally_ around her.

For the vanishing of the glass earlier today? Maybe Vernon will opt for a finger or two. More likely a few glasses. Piers did say she had been talking to the snake, as Dudley pretended the beast tried to bite his leg off. She didn't want to get in his bad side. Yet, she was hungry. Lunch was so far away. Helia knew hunger. It was a punishment the Dursleys seemed to like.

She had lived with the Dursleys since she had been a baby. Left on their doorstep nine years ago with only a letter. She should be grateful she had been accepted in their home. They were nice people who took her in. Helia was sure it was only because the neighbors would have talked. Her parents had died in a car accident. She didn't remember it, because she had been way too young. Sometimes when she thought hard enough, she swore she could see a blinding green light and a burning pain in her scar. She could explain the scar from the crash, but the rest certainly didn't look like car lights. But it wasn't like she could get answers from the Dursleys. They didn't talk about her parents, as if it was taboo. Neither did they keep photographs of them in the house.

Helia cradled her empty stomach. Had they gone to sleep already? She was about to open the door of her cupboard when she heard them coming down the stairs. Vernon's footsteps spattered dust and cobwebs all over her things. She heard him rattle near the front door. It was night, so why was he picking up the mail.

"They sent a letter, didn't they?" Petunia asked.

"You were right. July 1st, midnight exactly. It's proof she's one of _them_."

She didn't dare breathing, as Vernon started ranting about something. She couldn't hear very well, but it sounded like people trying to get her? What was the meaning of this? And what about the letter? If she looked at the right angle, she could see some brown letter. Not papercraft brown like the ones with the bills, more like… old parchment brown? Strange.

"What should we do? These _people_ might try to show up and ask about the girl. What if they ask questions? What if they want to know about her parents?" he asked.

"Vernon… It's going to be fine. They're from a different world from us."

"There will be no funny business in this house!" he whispered angrily. "Understand?"

Her aunt took perhaps a bit too long to answer, for she heard his heavy footsteps closing on the woman.

"No. Funny. Business."

"Y… yes Vernon."

"Oh, well goodnight dear." He said simply and went upstairs.

It was a while before Helia thought to breathe again. Her stomach was still empty, but she wasn't sure it was safe to go outside. She went nonetheless. Aunt Petunia was way nicer than her husband or her son. She had been the one to try and give shape to her disheveled hair. Well hopefully it had grown back, for the cut was horrid.

She silently tiptoed to the kitchen and slowly opened the pantry. There was an opened box of cookies. That could do the trick. She was retrieving them without a hitch when the light tuned on. Helia almost dropped her prize to the sight of her aunt. The woman looked at her strangely, as if she wasn't seeing her. The girl made a contrite gesture, taking her prize back to its proper place.

"Don't bother… I'll just get another one from downstairs… Just go to bed, please."

Her aunt had this funny look in her eyes, like she was looking through her and not at her. Without another word, Helia crawled back to her cupboard. Her eyes never left her aunt. And right when she closed the door, she noticed suspicious red mark on the woman's right arm. Just like when Vernon….

She focused on her cookies. Cookies were the best.

The beginning of summer holidays marked the end of her cupboard punishment. There was no other mention of any stranger letter. Her aunt had never been that normal. Vernon had never been that satisfied by his job. Dudley had been as careless as ever with his new toys. He'll be attending Smeltings next year, the same private school his father went. Helia was preparing herself to attend the local secondary school: Stonewall High.

Dudley and his friend Piers were parading in their new uniforms. From what she heard, they were quite pricy and made with fine materials. She thought her cousin looked more like a clown than a student. But could she complain? Stonewall High was nowhere that fancy when it came to uniforms. They only asked for a white shirt and a grey long skirt. She had never owned a skirt, but Vernon thought there was no need to spend too much money on her. That was why her aunt was sewing some of her old clothes before dying and/or bleaching them.

The bathroom reeked of chemicals, and Dudley found it incredibly funny to mock her on top of the humiliation. Helia rarely said anything back to him. She was bony, and not much of a sports type, where her cousin was meaty and aware she couldn't get back at him. It was getting worse these days with the Smelting stick he kept banging everywhere.

But the worst in the story was the tension. Something was happening between her aunt and uncle. She had no idea what it was, but she thought there was something about the letter they talked about the other day. It seeped through their relationship, straining it. Vernon made it clear to Helia that she was the one responsible. But he sent Dudley do his bidding, sticks and stones.

The only place she could be safe these days were at Mrs. Figg's. She was fine when you got used to the numerous cats she had. Smart cats, they were, but it made the entire house smell like an old barn. Or maybe it was the smell of cabbages. Everything Mrs. Figg cooked smelled like cabbages, even cakes. But Helia felt better hearing about the cats, and how wonderful that Mirza was about to have cute little babies.

"Everything's alright Helianthemum?" she'd ask when Dudley's gang lurked nearby.

"Everything's great Mrs. Figgs. Perhaps I'll use the back door today."

"You'll enjoy another cup of tea, won't you? And some cake, you look like you're just skin and bones."

She could never refuse, even if she used that horrible birth name. The woman on the Evans family, er mother and her aunt, had flower names. So she did as well.

The old woman was nice enough to keep her, even when Dudley had intentionally made her fall with his bike. Helia wondered what she would have done without her. As she tasted both the tea and cake, she couldn't help but notice the brown envelope on the tea tray. She had seen one like it recently, right? There was a wax seal on the back, and she wondered who would be that old fashioned to send letters with a cachet. The drawing was nice, like a medieval blazon. She was about to reach it when a ball hit the window harshly, making her spill everything on the table.

Oh no! Mrs. Figg would be cross with her if she saw this!

Helia glanced at the football players outside. Dudley and his friends shamelessly grinned at her. She glared back and decided to ignore them. They would tire from this right? They had to at some point. She wasn't ready for another hit and run session. She still had scratches from the bush she hid into last time they chased her around Little Whinging.

"Hum…uh… Mrs. Figg?" she called "I think I ruined your letter…."

"It's all right, dear. The paper has a spell on it, it's spilled-proofed." she replied from another room.

"I'm sorry?"

She looked back at the try. Oddly enough, it seemed that all the tea had dried out without tainting the paper. The specks of cake weren't moist anymore. Helia dusted them off with a brush of her hand. What a remarkable paper!

"Are you done Helianthemum? Or do you need another slice, since the other one went bad?"

"You're not mad about the letter?"

"Oh, dear. It was my fault for leaving my Wombat letter here."

"Your… Wombat letter?"

"It's a group to help newcomers integrate into the wizarding world. You sponsor someone who's not familiar with our culture like people who used to live in the muggle world."

Helia cocked her head to the side. Mrs. Figg was touched, wasn't she? An old bat with cats was sure to be a little lonely sometimes. Maybe she had run into the wrong people? Some sort of group like Jehovah's Witnesses, only with magic. The Dursleys wouldn't like that if they heard.

The old lady must have seen her look, because she frowned. Helia stared in her teacup. Mrs. Figg may be a bit of a looney, but she was nice enough to welcome her inside her home. She felt her cheeks grow hot under the woman's stare.

"You have no idea what I am talking about, don't you girl? It's about time you get your letter, and I've seen enough accidental magic to know the difference between a squib and a witch!"

She didn't know how to answer that. Mrs. Figg was really convinced about her fairy tales or whatnot. Helia started to grow really uncomfortable.

"Great Merlin, this is terrible! I knew these Dursleys were a bit thick, but to think they would tell you nothing. Silly muggles!"

Helia had no idea what a muggle was, but it sounded bad.

"Listen, I have to make a call. Could you wait for a moment? There's people I would like to meet."

Cold sweat ran along Helia's spine. Mrs. Figg was trying to get her into her little cult! Dudley be damned! A day hiding from his gang suddenly sounded like a great idea. So, she nodded to the lady and waited for her to pick up her phone. She'd leave from the backdoor as always. She was ready to sprint out of the room, when the woman stepped towards the fireplace. She picked up a box that she had always thought to be some relative's ashes and threw a handful of its content. Green flames filled the conduit, threatening to burn the lady. Terrorized, Helia watched as her face _disappeared_ in the fire.

"Albus? Do you have someone available? I think the Dursleys need some more convincing." She asked. After a while she added: "She's not received the letter yet." She paused again. "Of course, the muggle postal network functions well. I can receive and send owls myself, but Helia doesn't. I think the muggles took her letters to keep her from us. I talked to her just now and she has no idea where she's coming from."

She kept speaking to herself, her head eaten by the chimney. Helia was certain she was distracted now, and certainly more of a freak that she ever thought. Heh! What would the Dursley think. Slowly, she left the room as Arabella Figg kept yammering about owls and letters that had never reached Little Whinging.

For the first time of her life, Helia fled to the Dursleys. It was only two streets away, and she had gotten better at running because of Dudley's gang. She considered going inside the cupboard but decided that keeping an eye out the window was more prudent. Either Mrs. Figg or Dudley could be potential threats. She kept looking at the neighbourhood, frightened. This was sick!

It was too late when she saw the man coming from Mrs. Figg's street and going to the Dursley's. He was tall with grey-brown hair. Even from upstairs she could see how raggedy he looked. Then he rang their bell.

Aunt Petunia had been working of her dyed uniform when she heard. She walked before Helia's hiding spot up the stairs without seeing her. A strangled cry escaped her lips the second she opened the door.

"You!" she managed, though. "What the… What are you doing here?"

"It's been a while Petunia, isn't it? I'm here to see Helianthemum."

"Get the hell out of here before somebody sees you!"

"I need to speak to her. Someone has to, since you haven't been able to."

The man paused. He looked like he was sniffing something in the air.

"You smell like fear… No, it's not just you. She… she smells like fear!"

Helia squeaked. She flattened herself against the wall. One of her hands muffled her shallow breaths.

"What have you done to her?" the man accused her aunt.

"What _we_ have done to her? It's your people that terrifies us at every chance! Please get out of here. I'll tell nothing to no one. But, be gone!"

"Petunia, you don't understand. I mean you no harm. I just need to see her."

"I will not allow your people to take her away. She may not be the happiest here, but you've given her to us. As their guardians, I can't allow you to…"

"Petunia, please. I swear I mean you no harm. But if you do not let me enter…"

"You can't spell me. I know you can't. It's forbidden."

"Not, I mean… what will your neighbours say?"

If she hadn't been so utterly frightened, Helia could have admired the man. The Dursleys were all about appearance. Vernon always wanted to have the most beautiful car, the most luxuriant garden, the happiest family… He wanted everyone to know how rich he had become thanks to the company he built. Whenever there was a public event, he wanted all of them on their best behaviour… Which meant pretending she didn't exist.

Aunt Petunia bit down a curse before shoving the man inside the house. He had won! Helia willed her legs to move. This man wanted her. He was probably from the wizarding sect Mrs. Figg was from. She had to run.

Helia had dreamt people would someday whisk her away from the Dursleys. She hadn't thought there could be worse than them in the world! But as the man went up the stairs, followed by her aunt, she felt trapped. She had nowhere to go, except jumping from the window. Which was out of the question. It's not like she could magically find herself onto the neighbour's roof, just like she once did at school. Or rather it had happened in school, but there had to be a rational explanation. Magic didn't exist.

So, she did the only thing she could think of: throwing herself at the man and escaping through the stairs. With a bit of luck, she could achieve it.

"Helianthemum…" the stranger called when he saw her.

She sidestepped him. He was faster that he anticipated. And despite being just as wiry as she was, he was much stronger than she was. His arm slid around her waist and held her firmly, like a bar of steel.

"Easy… easy girl. I mean you no harm." He muttered and kept her in place.

She tried to look at her aunt, but she was suddenly buried against the man's chest. The heat radiating from him was suffocating. It felt like basking in sunlight inside a dusty room. Strangely, it soothed her. The fear and mistrust were still there, but there were battling something else. Something she couldn't place, something she had forgotten.

There were wet spots in her neck. The man took a ragged breath, and suddenly Helia understood that the man was crying.

"Hum… sir?" she asked.

The whole situation was creeping her out.

"Sorry Helianthemum. It's just… I haven't seen you in ages…"

Who called her that? Nobody but Mrs. Figg knew that name. And the old lady only knew because Petunia had explained the name thing to her once.

"…and you look so much like your parents. I mean you look just like James…"

What the…?

"but Lily's in you too…"

"Who the hell are you!" she blurted. "And please let go of me."

She wasn't used to people touching her. It felt weird and it made her uncomfortable. Well, she _had_ met friendly and weird strangers before, but never did anyone tried to hug her. The closest who had done that was Piers Polkiss, and he had been holding her arms behind her back while another of Dudley's friends was fishing her pockets for candies.

The man let her go. She shuddered and glared at him. What a weird man! He looked apologetic. His eyes looked strange: clear amber irises and black litter pupils. It reminded her the eyes of the neighbor's husky dog.

"My name is Remus Lupin, and I am a friend of your parents." He said. "We were in school together."

Helia gaped at him. He looked… old enough to be her father with his brown hair littered with grey. But he looked way older than a guy in his thirties. Plus, he had scars! She had always thought her parents were sort of normal. The way Vernon and Petunia seldom talked about them, it sounded like they were jobless. But with all these stories about some sort of weird society she was supposed to know, and this scarred man… Had her parents been dangerous people? Is that why they were dead? Is that why Mrs. Figg seemed to know things, and why her aunt didn't want that man in her home?

"You still look afraid," Mr. Lupin said. "But I can assure you I mean you no harm. I'm here to give you something. And answer your questions."

He handed her a thick envelope, kind of like the one Mrs. Figg had in her house. From these Wombat people, then? It was heavy, made of yellowish parchment with emerald-green ink handwriting. It was plainly addressed to her:

Miss. H. D. L. Potter

The Cupboard under the stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Helia frowned. Was this… On the other side of the envelope was a purple wax seal with a four-part blazon with a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake separated by a big H letter.

"You knew about this?" she asked her aunt. She looked ashamed.

"Vernon thought… Well, with all the people living here, we thought it was best that you could achieve a _normal_ childhood. It wouldn't have looked right if…"

"A normal childhood?" Mr. Lupin remarked. "How interesting, because I swear this letter mentions you're making Helia sleep inside a cupboard."

A chill ran though Harry's spine. This man sounded dangerous.

"It was the only place we could have made into a room when she arrived into our lives!" Petunia replied. "I swear!"

The man said nothing. He smiled at Helia before leading her aunt to the kitchen. She heard them whispering angrily as she started reading the letter. It was the first time someone ever wrote to her. If her instincts told the truth there was something fishy about this whole story. She pulled the letter out and read:

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _Dear Miss Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

Questions exploded inside her head. Was someone pulling her leg? When Mrs. Figg had talked about witches earlier, and about the letter, did she talk about this? And what were this story about owls? Who would do such an elaborate prank to trap her? She was just a weird child who was adopted by her aunt and uncle. But this was… this was…

She went to the kitchen to see Petunia sipping tea with this Lupin fellow. They were glaring at one another, as if waiting for a reason to just at each other's throat. Helia threw the letter on the table.

"This is completely crazy. But you both seem to believe in it. What is happening?" Her voice came in angsty puffs. Each sentence was blurted from her, almost hurting.

"It may seem silly to you, but it's the truth. You're a witch and magic exist."

"Vernon said there's no such thing at magic," she spat.

"… It was what I gathered from your aunt." Remus turned towards Aunt Petunia. "Seems like your husband is a bit thick."

"Listen, now that you've seen her you can go. My husband or my son could walk inside of here at any moment, and we'll be in big trouble. Your _people_ and mine don't belong together."

The same hurt went though Mr. Lupin's and Helia's eyes. He must have known what it meant to be a freak.

"It is strange how little faith you have in us, Petunia. Your sister was a witch too. You knew this day was going to happen. Why deluding yourself?"

"My sister disappeared to that school of yours. She was never the same after she got that same letter. She was strange before, but after that she just got… All that nonsense to get herself blown up with that Potter boy she liked. But there will be no end to this-this abnormality! Isn't it? I got myself a nice family, away from your world, and we got landed with you!"

"You always said they died in a car crash!"

"Because you think it would have been easier to tell you she was killed by another wizard?"

Helia swore Petunia was about to cry. Mr. Lupins eyes were growing kinder as he looked at the woman before him. She looked at him, and for once, Helia didn't see the bitter woman who was always so keen to have her respect Vernon's rules. She saw the woman she met in the kitchen at the beginning of the month. A woman she didn't know. She looked lost.

"Please leave," she asked again with a quivering voice. "It's over, now that you've delivered that damned letter. My life here is over."

With a sad smile, Mr. Lupin looked at Helia and extended a hand. She looked at him, puzzled, as he messed with her hair. His hot hands on her scalp felt good, but she recoiled. Who did he think he was?

"You look just like Lily when she was angry, but your unmanageable hair's all from your dad."

"Are you're leaving, then? Just like that?"

"I need to tell some things to your uncle first. Maybe to your cousin as well. So, in the meantime, why don't you seat next to me and I'll tell you everything you should know."

She sat and stared as Petunia served her a cup. It smelled way better than Mrs. Figg. She didn't dare asking for milk or sugar. This situation felt so strange already.

"Magic exists," Mr. Lupin started just like a teacher would. "There are two kind of people: magical people that we call witches and wizards, and non-magical people that we call muggles in magic Britain. Because of the Statute of Secrecy, the wizards live apart from the muggles. We don't use our magic against them, and neither do we interfere in their lives. It's like two separate worlds."

"Why can't we live together? Surely there should be ways to make things better with magic… Like wars?"

"Actually, it's quite the contrary. You'll learn that in school, but there used to be a wizard named Grindelwald who operated during World War II. He thought wizards should pick a side in Europe, and many followed him. But he ended up killing lots of people. Since then, most of magic traces have been kept secret. We don't interfere in their world, and they don't interfere with ours. Or, more accurately, we allow some muggles to enter our world, but in return they must not talk about it to anyone. That's the case for your aunt."

Helia looked at her aunt, who nodded grimly.

"It's a hard place to keep. There's many things she can't tell."

"Like how my parents died," she spat.

"Do you really want to know?" Mr. Lupin asked.

She nodded meekly. Her aunt's hand was crisped on her cup, almost becoming white with how tight her fingers dug in the porcelain.

"When your parents and I were young, there was a dark wizard who was doing bad things. Everyone in our world knows his name, because he has been doing crimes for years and no one ever managed to catch him. I'll tell you his name, but you must not repeat it, all right? People still fear him."

Helia and Petunia nodded. Mr. Lupin's voice was a mere whisper:

"Voldemort."

"I heard that name before," the woman remarked. "He-who-must-not-be-named."

"Right."

"What's the story about that man and my parents?"

"Well, that man was recruiting in our school. He offered power for those who served him and committed crimes with him. Many good wizards opposed him of course, but he was really powerful. Even Dumbledore, who had defeated Grindelwald in his time, couldn't beat him."

"Albus Dumbledore? The headmaster?"

"Yes, Helia, that's him. Your parents and I were on his side, so Voldemort tried to kill the three of you. On Halloween's eve 1982, he showed up to Godric's Hollow where your parents were in hiding and killed them."

His voice broke. By the time he recovered it, she thought she saw tears glint in her aunt's eyes. But it could simply be the lighting.

"Do you know why there's a scar on tour forehead?"

Helia mechanically reached for her bangs to hide the half side of her face. There was an ugly scar shaped as lightning bolt on her brow. It was brown, and not as bumpy as it used to be. It went from her hairline to under her brow. She always thought she had gotten it in the accident. But since there had been no car crash…

"It's a cursed scar. The dark wizard tried to use the same death spell he used on your parents. It's a forbidden spell that's supposed to kill anyone instantly. But it didn't work on you. Nobody survived that man, and yet you managed to defeat him when you were just a baby. That's why you're famous in the wizarding world."

"So why wasn't I kept in the wizarding world?"

"I wouldn't know. Albus Dumbledore decided you should be raised by your aunt and uncle."

"I know why," Petunia said. "That _man_ said there was magic lingering from some spell of Lily's. That it was old magic and it would protect the girl from ever being found if she stayed with her family. I thought he meant that we would never see you people again."

Mr. Lupin said nothing. He was thinking deeply, and Helia didn't dare questioning him. Instead, she focused on the painful memories thundering in her head. She saw the blinding green light again, much clearer than she ever did. A man was laughing. It was high-pitched, cold and cruel, almost inhuman.

Vernon entering the house woke up from her daze. In front of her Petunia was frozen. A sad smile adorning his lips, Mr. Lupin stood up and put his vest back on. Intrigued and quite unhappy to find their little reunion, her uncle walked to them. His ears were already of an interesting shade of red.

"Who are you?" he barked. "And what is that letter doing on the table Petunia?"

"Vernon, I…" she started.

"Mr. Dursley, I'm Remus Lupin. I was sent here by Albus Dumbledore."

"YOU'RE ONE OF THEM!"

Vernon grabbed Mr. Lupin by his collar and shoved him in the wall. Any other man would have caved against his meaty fists, and any other man would have found himself hanging from the wall. But despite his wiry silhouette, the wizard was in fact quite fit. Gone was the kindness in his features. His wild eyes bore into the other man's face, while tranquilly bending his fist away from his throat.

"Well, when Dumbledore said I might run into trouble, I hadn't thought it was that much."

"Let go of me you weirdo and get out of my house!"

"I understand you're the one who's been keeping your wife to tell anything to Helia," he replied without moving an inch. "Well, now the problem is solved, and I intend to lead her to Diagon Alley to get her supplies."

"You will not take this girl! I demand that you leave this house immediately, you are breaking and entering."

"Vernon, the neighbours…" Petunia pleaded.

"Oh, yes… What will the neighbours will say Mr. Dursley, hearing you yell like that?"

'They'd probably don't think anything's out of the ordinary,' Helia thought. She had been punished by the man enough to know that people had yet to lift a finger for her. After all, wasn't she the scrawny niece they took in after an accident. She was a difficult child, when Dudley was so gifted. No wonder she always landed him in troubles, that one…

"My house, my rules. Now get the hell out of my house, you and your freakiness!"

Mr. Lupin finally let go of the man. But right as he was leaving, ignoring the threatening silhouette of Vernon Dursley, he turned again to face him. His eyes gleamed like two flames as he looked at the man.

"I would say it had been a pleasure, but it has not. Expect me to be back shortly, Mr. Dursley. And please note that I made no use of magic against you. Yet. Petunia. Helia."

They all looked as he left for Mrs. Figg's house again. Her uncle slammed the door and stared at them. His teeth were clenched, and his fists were closing and opening. Then his eyes landed on his wife.

"We will talk about this. You let one on them in this house, in _my_ house! I can't have that."

"But Vernon, I couldn't possibly…"

"Of course, sweetheart. And that's why I saw you chatting with one of _these people_ in the kitchen, drinking tea and telling her about everything. I had forbidden you, haven't I?"

"Yes, you did. But I thought…"

"You thought what? After all these years, when I saved you from all this nonsense, when you said you wanted an ideal and normal life, haven't I been the perfect husband?"

"You-You have but…"

"Good! Now go and pack some bags for us and for Dudley. We're going where they cannot find us."

"You don't understand. They will find us anyway. She's one of them, and…"

"What? The girl is a hopeless case. She's a freak. That's why I think no normal school will do for this girl. We'll sent her to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Children. Better she cost a bit of money but is no trouble, right? Nothing a good beating can't cure."

No! Why did that man had to leave? He was weird, all right! But he knew her parents. And at that exact moment, the strange Mr. Lupin was way more enticing than the Dursleys.

"The world' would be better off with people like you, girl. But Petunia… She's a kind woman. She wanted to keep you. I should have sent you to the orphanage. Instead you're in my house, eating at my table and leaving near my son. I knew things would come to a sticky end!"

Helia didn't see when his fist hit her face. She heard the sickening creak of her nose and glasses before it started hurting. She landed on the floor, butt first. Her head hit the doorframe behind her. Pain. Horrible pain reverberated across her face. Blood seeped through her fingers when she caught her face. She hadn't time to know what happened next, for Vernon seized her. She was thrown on his muscular shoulder. Something hit her in the back of the head this time and everything went black.

They were driving. The car was silent. Her head hurt. Dudley winced when she looked at her.

"Dad? You're sure Helia's fine?" he asked with a small little voice.

"Don't worry son. Your cousin's just been a bit disrespectful, that's all."

There was a long time a silence where she must have dozed off again. She dreamt of a flying motorbike. Dudley's voice woke her again.

"Dad? Where are we going?"

"Far. Far away son."

"But why are you going to a direction, and then the right opposite? It makes no sense."

"I'm just shaking bad people off, son."

"Bad people? Bad how? Is that why Helia and Mom are hurt?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to."

The rest of the ride was shallow. At last, Vernon stopped near a big city, in a shabby-looking hotel. Helia just wanted to keep her head on the window. It was a fresh sensation on her hot…. hot… face. That night she had to share a twin bed with Dudley. He didn't ask about her face again and snored all night. She barely managed to sleep. She didn't leave the room, even if she wanted to. She had nowhere to go.

Would Mr. Lupin find her? Or maybe Mrs. Figg would have other friends of her to call on. The more she thought of the recent events, the more everything strange that had happened in her life made sense. Strange things had always happened around her, from her mysteriously growing hair to her talking to snakes. Mostly it had been things that had happened when she had been scared, or angry, or desperate.

If nothing happened when she was in so much pain and frightened by her uncle, then this magic business was rubbish.

The next morning, as they were packing the car, someone from the hotel came to them.

"Scuse me. I have a Mr. Lupin here looking for a Helia Potter. I know your reservation was under Dursley, but he's very insistent."

"No Helia Potter here." Vernon grumbled as he pushed her niece inside the car. She wouldn't be able to run from them.

"Is your daughter okay? She looks…"

"She fell down the stairs yesterday. Good day sir."

They were gone before he could try anything else. Aunt Petunia suggested it might be better to just go home, but Vernon didn't seem to hear him. He drove into the middle of a forest but seemed to think it was still too easy to find them. It was the same when he went into a multilayer parking. No place seemed faraway enough. Even Dudley started to question his sanity by the end of the day, but it might have been because his parents were ignoring him instead of grovelling before him.

Dudley only thought of the TV shows he was missing.

Helia's face was still throbbing. Vernon had never hit her in the face before. It had always been Dudley. She wondered if she should repair her glasses with scotch again.

After leaving us in the car in the middle of nowhere, Vernon went to a small cabin with fishermen. He came back with a dreadful smile, carrying a long dim package. He made them walk under the rain and showed them a miserable shack on the top of a rock.

"With the storm tonight, no internet and no phone, we'll see if they can find us!" he said victoriously.

After what seemed like hours in the chilly wind, they reached their destination. Inside, it smelled of seaweeds, and the wind was howling. There was only too room, and the damp fireplace had nowhere near enough wood to light anything.

Vernon was in a very good mood. Just like him, Helia thought there was no way Mr. Lupin could reach them here.

When the storm hit at nightfall, high waves threatened to take down the house. Dudley managed to sleep in the mould-eaten sofa, while she was trembling under a smelly blanket. She wished the wind would keep the Dursleys awake, just to spite them. She watched the lighted handles on Dudley's watch ticking them nearer to her birthday. She wondered where Mr. Lupin was now. Was he still looking for her, or was he waiting for the storm to stop?

At a moment, she swore she heard something. Like a panting dog. It made no sense, for there were in the middle of the sea. She'd be eleven in a handful of minutes. Maybe she'd wake Dudley up. Torturing him for her birthday: what a perfect present! But maybe she could do better and get back at his fath…

There was a glowing thing sliding from under the door. Like a thick fog that didn't disperse in the room. Holy… It was taking shape. The panting noise she had heard was back. It wasn't a dog. It was a wolf. A glowing wolf made of mist!

"Happy birthday Helianthemum!" it cheered with Mr. Lupin's voice.

What. What! He had found them! It had to be him: nobody used her full name.

"It's you! You're Mr. Lupin!"

"Just wait a minute, I'm going to Apparate outside."

"Say what?"

There was a popping noise the other side of the door. I rattled, like someone was trying to push it. The sound reverberated inside the shack, waking Dudley. She stood as her cousin looked at her groggily.

"Alohomora," he said and the lock opened all by itself.

Magic was real. And it was cool.

In the room entered Remus Lupin, drenched in water. He shook himself and closed the door with a kick, splashing water everywhere. Vernon made rattling noises and cursed upstairs as he was getting up. Mr. Lupin shushed them before moving near the stairs. He was graceful and silent. There was a wooden stick in one of his hands that he held like a weapon. Her uncle skidded into the room, a rifle in his hands.

"Who's there! I warn you, I'm armed!"

"Are you Mr. Dursley?"

Helia's jaw almost fell: her uncle was merely holding a tree branch. Dudley squeaked and went hiding behind his parents. The man dropped his weapon as if he had been burned.

"Anyway Helia, Happy birthday. I was thinking of taking you to Diagon Alley and buy you a gift there. You don't mind her going, right?"

In the dim light, she saw Mr. Lupin frown at Petunia's fading bruises. Then he looked at Helia's face. She heard him growl like a beast. His eyes went back to Vernon's face.

"Dursley!" he hissed.

Her uncle's face grew very pale. He mumbled something she didn't get.

"I'd like to see you try something against me Mr. Dursley."

"And I'm telling you she's not going. There will be no magic books, or wand, or whatnot. She'll go to St Brutus, and they'll quench that nonsense out of her!"

"And you think a simple muggle like you can stop Helianthemum Potter from attending Hogwarts, just because it won't damage his simple life of normalcy? She needs to learn how to use her magic in a controlled environment. She'll be under great professors of magic in the finest school of witchcraft…"

"I WILL NOT GIVE A CENT FOR SOME SECTARIAN FOOLS TO TEACH HER TRICKS!" he yelled.

This was the exact moment her uncle knew he had gone too far. Remus' swished down his stick towards the chimney. A fire roared in the fireplace.

"Would you like me to show you other tricks Mr. Dursley?" he asked, now pointing the man directly. "I'm not sure you want to know what I can do to you with this wand. Now back off!"

The trio moved back upstairs under the threat of Mr. Lupin's stick. Helia was glad he thought of making a fire, and but was disappointed he didn't turn her uncle into a frog.

"Let's get you into a better place," he said and opened the door. "Take my arm and take a deep breath."

The next thing Helia knew, someone was trying to force her body into a rubbery tube that was way too small for her. She landed on a stony backyard behind a shop. Her stomach lurched as she went to the ground. Mr. Lupin rubbed soothing circles on her back. Hopefully the fact she hadn't eaten since last breakfast meant that only some bile crawled up her throat.

As he helped her back into her wobbly legs, Mr. Lupin suggested they went straight to bed. She meekly asked him from some food and he ushered her inside. The keeper, Tom, wasn't up, but a small creature named Isty was thrilled to serve her a bowl of soup. Another wand waving later, her nose and glasses were fixed.

That night was the first time someone tucked her to bed.

* * *

 _So, tell me, what do you think about this penpal idea. When I reread Harry Potter recently,_ _I was amazed at how easily Harry and Hermione were understanding magic and everything around. There had been some bits of fun with Arthur Weasley trying to understand muggle appliances, but that was all. It's like "okay, it's magical, I'm all for it. Let's go find some adventure." Plus, pureblood wizards have always seemed very uptight to me, but nothing shows in the books (okay, they are for kids, but still). There are prejudices against muggleborn students, but nothing is done to integrate them inside the wizarding world. Prejudices alone don't take into consideration the diversity of the wizarding world, especially when there can be half-breeds such as Hagrid or Professor Flitwick.  
_

 _Regarding muggles,I know there is the Statute of Secrecy that hides wizards from the rest of the world. But I don't think they can simply isolate themselves, as they do in Britain. I mean, muggles have invented bombs that can wipe out entire cities, reshape the earth and deal damages to entire populations. How can wizard dismiss them so easily? I'm quite sure they experienced WWII just like everyone else. Especially Tom Riddle, since he graduated in 1944._

 _Tell me your thoughts about wizards and muggle cohabitation. Do you think it's possible, or that they should remain separated? Please answer in the review section, or via PM.  
_

 _Thanks for reading._

 _And keep an eye out for updates!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello,_

 _Thank you for those who took the time to read the previous chapter. See the end of the chapter for notes!_

* * *

She heard someone call her name. Daylight was bathing the room, but she didn't want to open her eyes. This was the springiest best she had ever slept in. The heavy duvet was at perfect temperature. She moaned sleepily when someone called her again. It was no member of her family, so it was fine. Someone chuckled before walking to the bed.

She immediately sat up, her body tensing because of the stranger's approach.

"Whoa there! Be careful!" Mr. Lupin said.

"Mr. Lupin? How… How did I get here? Where am I?"

She thought of asking about her family, but in the end, she couldn't care less. They were fine wherever they were. Except maybe about her aunt, because she hadn't seemed that bad when she sat down and had tea with her and Mr. Lupin.

"Please don't call me 'Mr Lupin'! How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know? Old?" She shrugged. He did have greyish hair and scars and stuff.

"I'm in my thirties, don't call me that," pouted the man. "Please call me Remus."

"Then… Could you call me Helia? Everybody does, and it's really weird to use it…"

"I'll be sure to remember. I suppose these names aren't common amongst muggles. But lots of people will use your full name."

"Because I'm famous?"

"Yes, and you're also from an old family. There are traditions. Names are powerful, and not calling something by its proper name either means people fear or mock them."

"Is that why nobody calls Voldemort by its name?" she asked. "Because they fear him?"

Reus cringed.

"Yes, and I'd advise that you don't use his name as freely as you do."

"Oh, sorry. But then, if you know his name, can't you curse him better or something?"

"Good question! However, magic based on names is more of a lost art and an old tradition in Pureblood families than a real thing nowadays."

Her growling stomach prevented her from pondering more about magic and everything. Didn't Remus mention some breakfast? She followed him downstairs but keeping a wary stance. Before she reached down the stairs, the man stopped. He seemed like he was sniffing the air. He seemed wary.

"One more thing Helia I had almost forgotten. Do you mind if I charm you a little?"

"Charm me?"

"Just an illusion. I'm not a great fan of crowds, and you coming to Diagon Alley might attract unwanted attention. I'd like to hide some of your feature, if you let me."

"Won't I stand out with these clothes as well?"

She was wearing a mix of large clothes from Dudley and cheap stuff her aunt had found. She looked unkempt, and with her bed-hair, taped glasses and fading bruises she looked horrible. She didn't think anyone would think she was some sort of celebrity. People would pity or mock her: she was used to it.

"Actually, I was thinking we were dressed in the same fashion," he said with an embarrassed blush. "So, if you don't mind changing your appearance a little…"

Helia looked at his raggedy clothes. They were both wearing patched clothes. A tentative smile adorned her lips, and she accepted he used his magic on her. She hadn't seen him used it yet. Except for the glowing dog, she had yet to see something magical. He muttered an incantation and flicked his wand. She felt like someone was pouring water on her. Then he tapped her glasses, and it felt like they stood a little bit better on her nose.

"It should do the trick" Remus said with satisfaction.

She was dying to see the changes, but he was already downstairs. She followed him to what seemed to be a cozy café with people enjoying drinks or breakfasts. As her guardian was speaking to the bartender, a humpbacked guy named Tom, she managed to get a glance at herself in a mirror. Instead of auburn hair, she had sandy-blonde locks framing her face. Her eyebrows had been bleached as well, and no scar cut through her left one. Her eyes were still vivid, but they were grey now. Her skin looked fairer as well, to match Remus's. Her face had kept her natural angles. She still looked as frail and tired as before.

Remus came back with fuming plates, filled with sausages, beans and eggs. Her mouth watered. It looked like a king's breakfast. She never had that much for herself. But as she dug into her plate, enjoying the sight of the hot cocoa mug hovering towards her, she felt a pang of guilt. The man didn't look like he had much money. And her uncle said he wouldn't pay anything for her.

"Uh… Remus? Don't you think we should slow down? I mean… this breakfast looks expensive and there's still all my school supplies…"

"Don't worry about that Helia, your parents got it covered. They left me a lot of things after they… Anyway, I hadn't touched it yet, because I owed them so much already… I left everything in Gringotts'. I mean they'd be delighted if I used it to help you!"

It sounded like he was really embarrassed by this money story. She was glad her parents had thought of giving some money to Remus. He looked like he needed it a lot. She needed to find a new conversation.

"What's Gringotts?"

"That's the wizarding bank. If Mrs. Figg hadn't flooed, you'd probably be there with Hagrid today. He had an errand to run. But, you know, I thought you'd like it better if someone you knew went with you to Diagon Alley today."

"Yeah, that's true." She didn't know who this Hagrid person was, and it would have probably felt weird.

"Plus, Hagrid doesn't do magic, so you'd have been exposed to all sorts of people…"

"Hun hun…"

"And, even though he was friendly with your parents, I have been to school with them!"

"Hun hun…." It felt as if Remus was rambling.

"And, I hadn't seen you in almost ten years!"

She found a great interest in her cocoa mug. Her cheeks were burning, and she couldn't help but smiling. Today was weird, but it felt good. Her first steps in the world of magic seemed like good ones. Remus was fun, and he liked her. That was much better than anything that had happened in her life before.

"But, you know, if you're that concerned about money, I can go to the bank and ask some mandates to the Goblins. Well, a trip to Gringotts will be necessary anyways, so it's no big deal."

"Goblins? Mandates?"

"Oh, I forgot you've been raised by muggles. Well, the wizarding bank is run by goblins. Wizards and goblins are at odds for centuries, but we found a way to work together. They manage our gold, and we pay them for it. They are good with gold, but they'll try to trick people into giving more money than necessary."

"So, they are… employees or something?"

"It's more complicated than that. In exchange for protection or dissimulation from the muggles, magical creatures and beings were given either habitats or roles in the wizard society, but they're not part of it. Goblins are part of the Citizen-Class Beings. They have some rights, but not every right a human being has."

"Citizen-Class Beings?"

"It's a classification for magical creature. The closer they are to humans, the more rights they get. It's a discriminatory system."

Something wild shone in his eyes, making Helia shudder. Remus knew lots of things, but suddenly she didn't want to ask. Someone swept by their table. It was a pale man wearing a purple turban. He smelled like garlic. Remus nose was twitching. He seemed inconvenienced too. A headache started pounding inside Helia's head. But instead of heading for the bar, the stranger stopped by their table.

"R-Remus?" he asked nervously.

"Quirinius? Is that you? I almost didn't recognize you. How are you these days?"

"P-Probably the t-turban."

"Helia, this is Quirinius Quirrell. He was one of my underclassmen in Hogwarts, except he was in Ravenclaw."

"You're a f-future s-s-student? I'll be your p-p-professor of D-Defense against the D-D-Dark Arts this year. You're here to g-get all your equipment, I suppose?"

Remus flicked his wand and a chair appeared by the end of their table. The young professor thanked them for the invitation. Helia cocked her head slightly. She didn't picture him teaching. He looked terrified by everything, and his stuttering was gritting her nerves. With the all garlic-induced headache, she felt no sympathy for the man.

"I'm only telling you because Dumbledore trusted you to be the new DaDa teacher", Remus said with a low voice. "Let me introduce you to Heliantrum Potter."

"P-P-Potter? Oh, I c-c-can't tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you!" he stuttered and grasped her hand. She tried to hide the discomfort she was feeling right now.

"I'm looking forward to attend your class," she managed.

"So, Quirinius, what brings you to Diagon Alley?"

"I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires."

"Vampires are real too?" she asked.

"Most of muggle folklore is," Remus replied as the professor's eyes widened. "Heliantrum's been raised by muggle relatives. She has still a lot to learn."

"Th-Then I hop-pe you'll b-be s-studious in my c-class, Miss P-P-Potter."

"Yes, sir."

"If you don't mind us, we still have lots of things to do today? I'll be appreciative if you kept quiet about our presence in Diagon Alley."

Ravenclaw, Dark Arts, vampires… Helia's mind was filled with questions. She was glad they could immediately leave this place. The smell was really awful, and her head was pounding. Given the face Lupin made, he was impaired by the smell as well. He told her the stutter gritted on his nerves as well: the man had picked that up in Albania, it seemed. After paying for their meal and shaking hands with his old classmate, Remus dragged her back to the small stony courtyard they had landed (teleported?) this morning.

"Don't stand too close to the wall Helia."

He tapped a brick three times with his wand. It didn't seem different from the others, but suddenly it wriggled. A hole formed and widened as other bricks started moving as well. Seconds later, an archway led them onto a cobbled street.

Remus grinned at her own amazement, as she stepped forward into the large street. A colorful crowd wearing strange robes and hats filled the streets with noise. The sun shone across a stack of cauldrons at the nearest shop.

"We'd better start with the cauldron. It will be easy to put all your stuff inside."

Without letting her admire how the different ladles and spoons automatically stirred the empty cauldrons, Remus dragged her inside. The owner had prepared his shop for Hogwarts students, for everything was packed and labelled for each year. For her first year, Helia received a set of crystal vial with their protection enchantment, a wooden ladle, brass scales and a standard pewter cauldron size 2.

"The alloys affect the potion, miss," the seller explained. "Pewter is neutral, and it is used for basic potions. You won't need any other equipment, but if I can make some suggestions, I suggest you buy a pair of thick lever gloves and a set of knives from the Second Hand. It's a shop near Knockturn Alley."

Helia looked at the utensils displayed before her.

"What about these?" she asked.

"If you sure you can afford them…" the clerk said. He checked her clothes out, and Remus's. He believed they were poor, and truth be told, she thought she might be. But it wasn't polite.

"We'll just take these, thank you." Remus replied.

He sounded tired. Helia cocked her head questioningly. He just paid for everything before waiving his wand at the cauldron, neatly piling all utensils, and headed out. The cauldron hovered behind them slowly.

"Is there something wrong?" Hella asked. "Is it because of the clothes?"

"Yes… and no. I don't know much about potions, but I know enough to know that this shop is specialized in cauldrons. The other equipment is fine, but we can find some with a better value for money elsewhere."

"Is that so? How can you tell?"

"One of your ancestors had been very famous with their potions. There is no proper business these days because… Well, because of You-Know-Who. I worked there a little while after I graduated."

"So, that's how you know about potions. But… does that mean I own a magical company?"

"I wouldn't know. Maybe you'll receive an owl or something. Ah, here's where we'll buy your books."

The shop was strange. She hadn't paid attention when they bought the cauldrons, but it seemed like the insides of the shop were bigger than expected The walls were too narrow to fit that many cases. Remus seemed amused by her finding, as he went to the desk to take the standard books. Helia took some time to browse between the shelves: perhaps she could find one or two interesting books, or maybe a novel? Some books were in other languages she had never seen. Her parents' friend told her which was Greek, Arabic or Runes. Most of the books had been translated in English or Latin.

"Should I learn Latin for classes?" she asked him.

"It's not necessary, but there are some grimoires impervious to Translation spells."

"Wow, it must be hard to really delve into a subject when magic can't help you."

"Well, that's because you're thinking of the untranslated books as the problem. Magic is broad, and many solutions can be found. For example, you could try to use some potions to learn a language faster."

She hadn't thought of that. Maybe she wouldn't find the way to keep Dudley away from her in _Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

The Apothecary smelled even worse than Professor Quirrel's turban. Jars of slimy stuff and weird plants (or animal parts?) hung everywhere. Bright powders stood next to bundles of fangs, feathers, claws, herbs, roots… She wondered how the people inside kept everything organized and never got anything mixed up.

Then they went to buy a telescope set, and adequate potions equipment. She followed Remus's recommendations, but he often looked a bit lost. He said it was because of the new spells imbued in the tools. They finally settled on basic stuff with no magic. She'd learn to use them and chose what she needed eventually.

The next stop was at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasion. If the assistant who welcomed them looked as condescending as the cauldron's vendor, she said nothing about their clothes. Instead, she led them to the back of the room to get her fitted. A black robe skipped over her head by itself. It was only when the witch started putting pins on her robes that Helia noticed the boy on the other stool.

He looked her age with pale and pointy features. He looked cold and distant, as if his stool was some sort of pedestal where everyone could admire him. She noted how cold Remus's eyes had grown on the boy, and how said boy was sneering at the man's clothes.

"Hey", he called her. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes" she said shortly, wondering why he was talking to her at all.

"So am I. My father is next door buying my books, and my mother is examining the wands at Ollivander's." His tone was bored, his voice drawling. "After my robes are done, I'll have them buy me the new Nimbus 2000. I don't see why first years can't own a racing broom. Father will cave in if I bully him, I'm sure."

She gave him the kind of polite smiles she gave the neighbors whenever they commented on how nice the Dursleys were to have adopted her. This boy strongly reminded her of Dudley. The assistant's hand kept her in place when she started fidgeting.

"Have you got your own broom?" he asked.

"No, I don't."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," she replied again.

"I do – Father thinks it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I agree. But they say first years can't play. Can you believe that?" She nodded, unsure what to reply. She wondered if he really wanted to talk with her, or if he just liked to hear his voice. "You know what house you'll be in?"

"Maybe… Ravenclaw?" she asked, remembering the name Remus had dropped earlier. The more he talked about things she ignored, the more stupid she felt.

"Oh, you're an intellectual, then? Well, it's better than Gryffindor, or worse Hufflepuff. I'll probably be sorted in Slytherin, all our family have been. Where were your parents sorted?"

"In Gryffindor." Remus replied when she looked at him for answer.

The boy sneered derisively at his clothes.

"And who's he? The poor uncle that dragged you to Diagon Alley?" he mocked. "Given that you look more like a Black than he does, your pure blood must not come from his side." He paused. "He's magical, right? I have doubts, given _what_ he is wearing."

"Yes, he's a wizard, and both my parents were if that is what you are asking."

"Oh, good. I would like to know your name. Old families must keep together. Muggleborns are just not the same, don't you agree? They'd never get our ways. What's your surname anyways?"

Fortunately, before she could answer, Madam Malkin's who was attending him told him he was done. The boy hopped down the stood and bowed very slightly. When he was gone, Remus audibly let out a sigh. Helia felt relieved as well.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Probably Draco Malfoy. His father works at the Ministry of Magic. He's… very influent."

"Huh, figures why he's acting like a prick, then." The assistant snorted at that. "So, what's this Quidditch thing? And the Hogwarts's Houses? I felt like an idiot nodding to him!"

"Quidditch is the wizard's national sport. It's different from the muggle ones, but I guess it's a mix between Baseball and Basketball."

"Except it plays on brooms."

"And with four balls. The rules are a bit complicated. As for the school houses, they are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. It's the names of the four founders of Hogwarts, and they have different sets of value."

"Were you a Gryffindor like my parents?"

"Of course."

After piling the uniforms in her cauldron, they went to the final shop of the day: Ollivander's. His shop was shabby, stuck between two bigger stalls. The gold letters on the wooden door were peeling, and there was just a single wand in display in the dusty window. Helia looked at Remus dubiously. She knew Draco's mother had been in the shop, so it must have meant this Ollivander guy was good.

The tiny place was cramped with boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. In the silence and the dust, Helia felt some strange tingles on her skin. She felt like she had stepped in a sacred and ancient place, the kind where one should speak with respect.

"Good afternoon," a smooth voice said, and she jumped. An old man had appeared out of nowhere, very pale, with eyes shining like moons. He was observing her as if she was something particularly interesting under a microscope.

"Uh… Hello?" she said.

"And who might you be, young lady? A new member of the Lupin family? Or a Black?"

He moved closer with gracious moves. He reminded her of a spider walking on its web. Mr. Ollivander scrutinized Remus with a frown.

"She's not yours, is she, Remus Lupin? I would have known. Cypress and unicorn hair, ten and a quarter inches, pliable, right?"

"Right."

Helia sensed she wasn't the only one intimidated by the vendor. The old man stepped back to scrutinize her. His face was so close they were almost nose to nose. She recoiled, as she saw her reflection in the misty eyes.

"Ah yes, of course. Now it makes sense. I knew I'd be seeing you, Miss Potter. It seems only yesterday your parents bought their first wands in here. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow for your mother, and a mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable for your father. And… I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that killed them. If I had known a simple yew wand could do in these hands, I…"

His eyes were unfocused for a while. Mechanically he took a measuring tape out of his pocket.

"What's your wand arm, Miss Potter?" he asked with a more professional tone.

"The right?"

"Hold out your arm please?"

The tape measured every length from shoulder to fingers, elbow to wrist, shoulder to floor, and even round her head! As he noted to numbers, the man explained a of wandlore. The measures were becoming more an more fantasist by the minute.

Ollivander put several boxes in front of her, showing her some wands. For each one, he told her the wood, the core and what kind of spells it was best at. As soon as she waved the first wand around, the vendor snatched it out of her hand. Helia tried again, but the second one was taken off her hands as well. She tried a third wand, then a fourth. She didn't know what the man was looking for, but she felt like a fool. But the more wands she tried, the more Mr. Ollivander smiled.

"Tricky customer, aren't you Miss Potter. But we'll find your match, don't worry."

But the boxes kept piling up, and Helia wondered if there was something wrong with her. It's only when he presented her with the holly and phoenix feather wand, that she felt something. Unlike the other wands, this one was radiating with warmth. When she raised it, sparkles of lights shot out of the end like fireworks.

"How curious, very curious Miss Potter."

"How so? Is this wand wrong for me again?"

"It's curious, that the perfect match for you, is the twin of the one who gave you your scar… The wand choses the wizard, Miss Potter. I think we should expect lots of things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made great things. Terrible, yes. But still great."

Helia shivered. Mr. Ollivander gave her the creeps. Remus seem to agree with her, for he paid quickly. As soon as they were out of the shop, he grabbed her arm and her things and got them in Little Whinging. She didn't like this teleportation spell. It felt awful.

The afternoon was dyed with the red of dusk when they entered the Dursleys' house. They would be back soon from their little trip from who knows where. Remus fitted her things in her cupboard, growling angrily. She fixed some tea and a copious meal for them. They had skipped lunch.

"Everything's all right Helia? You're very silent."

She sighed, sipping her tea.

"I feel like this is just some sort of a weird dream. It's like everyone expects me to be someone exceptional, because a bad guy didn't manage to kill me. But I don't know about anything. I don't know about Hogwarts, I don't know about Quidditch, I don't know about magic…. I don't even know about my family!"

"Don't worry, everyone starts somewhere. So, yes, the system might be a little unfair for those without magical background, but you'll pull through. I know you will."

"Maybe you're right… But I'm still going to be the different kid. As always."

"I don't think you will." He ruffled her hair with a fond smile. "When I was your age, I thought I'd never have friends. I was…. I was often sick, so I thought I couldn't be with other children, thought I'd make them sick. But I met your father and other great people in Gryffindor. You'll be just fine, even if you're the Girl-Who-Lived."

As he was leaving the house, Remus handed her an envelope. They were her Hogwarts tickets. And if she needed anything, she could still ask Mrs. Figg for help. She'd know where to find him.

Helia felt a painful pang in her heart when Remus left. She tried to follow the wizard when he walked out, but he disappeared as soon as he reached the garden. As if he had never existed.

August was no fun at all. Yes, she had her magical things, but they didn't scare Dudley enough. It was probably because her aunt and uncle had given her his second bedroom. Her cousin had thrown a fit, but his parents didn't give in. Something had been set in motion with Remus.

In retaliation, Dudley chased her around even more than before. It didn't help that there was even more tension in her aunt and uncle's marriage. The men of the house ventilated by retaliating on her.

Helia kept in her new room, browsing through her new books, or at Mrs. Figg's. She had apologized about her reaction, and the old woman had kept ranting about the Dursleys and Albus Dumbledore. When she wasn't browsing though her new books, she talked about magic to her neighbor. She learned that even though she had magical blood, the old lady hadn't enough to be a witch. She couldn't answer most of her questions, so she asked it to her wombat penpal.

Her wombat correspondent wasn't an animal, as Helia had first believed. It stood for Wizard Organization for the Muggle-Born assimilation of Traditions. It had originally been a group to help children without magical background to fit in their society by finding patrons, and sometimes being adopted by a family. The association had changed in a few centuries, and it was more used to help the young wizard and witches to learn about the parts of the society that wasn't taught in Hogwarts.

Mrs. Figg had nicely suggested she should get a penpal for all the questions she had regarding school, and wizard traditions.

Every night, Helia hoped she could get and owl to visit her. The only one who came was that bushy cat who was following her around. One of Mrs. Figg's cats had given birth a few months ago. The lady told her there were no simple cats but kneazles. She should feel lucky she had been chosen by one.

Even though she had no way to feed her, or keep her, really, the feline had claimed her bed many times. Helia felt like she was the one who was owned by the grey-speckled creature. She called her Laudine, because it was the wife of Yvain, the Knight of the Lion. Soon, she had to wear hoodies, because the kneazle simply loved to be carried around like princess, so Helia had to fit her on her shoulders whenever she could.

She still had to hide her from the Dursleys, though. Hopefully Laudine was very smart and seemed to know when she could come and play.

She didn't find much about kneazles in her school book. In _Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them_ from Newt Scamander, she only read: "The Kneazle was originally bred in Britain, though it is now exported worldwide. A small cat-like creature with flecked, speckled or spotted fur, outsize ears and a tail like a lion's, the Kneazle is intelligent, independent and occasionally aggressive, though if it takes a liking to a witch or wizard, it makes an excellent pet."

This explanation didn't explain anything more than what she had gathered from observing Laudine, and she was very disappointed.

On the other hand, most of the books she had bought were quite difficult to understand, and they somehow offered a nice challenge that kept the boredom away. Every night before sleeping, she checked the calendar to see how many days were left, and if she had received a letter.

Then she learned that owls were obnoxious creatures when they weren't fed after a long trip. Her fingers kept the beak marks for days after she received her letter.

 _August 20, 1991_

 _Hi Helia,_

 _How are you doing today? Preparing for Hogwarts I suppose?_

 _My name is Charlie and I am 19. I work in Romania with dragons, and even though my family regularly writes to me, it's kind of lonely out there. So, I think getting a wombat penpal is kinda cool. My father has one – he's a real muggle fan, so he sold me the idea._

 _I graduated Hogwarts from last year. I wanted to play Quidditch, but my mother insisted that it wasn't prestigious enough. I guess I chose Romania because it was far enough from her, but prestigious enough, and I could fly. I love flying. I feel better with my feet in the air than on the ground._

 _Do you fly or play Quidditch in your spare time?_

 _But as I write this letter, I'm wondering who you are. Are you a muggleborn or a half-blood? I don't think you're a pureblood because most of them wouldn't need the wombat. I thought of some questions you could answer, so we could start on solid bases._

 _Don't worry, I'll answer them as well :)_

 _1 – Where are you from? I'm from a pureblood family, but we're not delving in the old traditions. My family is really big and tied together. How about yours?_

 _2 – What do you do for fun? I love Quidditch: I was the Captain of the Griffindor's team three years in a row! I played Seeker. I try to play with colleagues whenever I can._

 _3 – What House do you think you'll be sorted in? If you don't know about it, picture yourself with a difficult thing to do. Do you go ahead and see what happens? Or do you try to research first? Do you try to ask your friends to do it with you? Or are you looking for some loophole to do it easier?_

 _4 – Do you think you're more of an introvert or extravert? I think I like meeting new people, but I don't fell that much comfortable when a room is crowded._

 _5 – What's your dream? Well, I started working with dragons this year, and I love it. It may sound crazy, but I'd love to ride one someday. And as something more down-to-earth, I think I'd like to raise a family, but keep doing what I like._

 _6 – Do you have any siblings? I have 6 brothers and 1 sister._

 _7 – Are you close to your family? As you probably guess, my mother is a little overbearing, and the rest of them don't write as much as I'd like. I feel like I like being close to them, but still be free._

 _8 – What's your favorite food? I have to say game pies and roasted lamb. I know people are not huge fans of it, but since I'm in Romania, it's all I can think of._

 _9 – What kind of music do you like? I'm curious. I'm not very knowledgeable about it. All I know is Celestina Warbeck, because my mom always listens to her songs. My sister is a fan of the Weird Sisters, maybe you're more into that?_

 _10 – If you could trade your place with anyone in the world, who would it be? I'd like to be Galvin Gudgeon. He's the Seeker from the Chudley Canons, and even though they're down in the League, I'd live to play with Dragomir Gorgovitch. But you know, I'm pretty happy with my dragons, so even if the Chudleys are looking for a new Seeker, I think I'll keep my actual job._

 _11 – Would you ever want to be famous? And if yes, what for? I know I wouldn't. It would feel like too much pressure on me. So maybe I'm not cut out to be a Quidditch star?_

 _12 – Do you have a best friend? I don't. Or rather I consider my brother Bill as my best friend. We're really close. I'm less close with Percy, he's too strict with rules. He's got the Prefect badge this year. You'd better watch out._

 _13 – If you won the lottery, what would you do with the money? It may sound cheesy, but I think I'll give it to my family. We don't have too much money, and there's just my father who has a job in the ministry… I'd love it if my brothers and sisters didn't have second-hand things._

 _14 – If you had three wishes, what would they be? I'd ask for the latest broom, of course. Then probably money, and a more understanding mother._

 _15 – Do you like reading? I'm not much of a reader myself. Maybe I have yet to find an author that I like? I tried to read Gilderoy Lockart's books once. Don't. They're full of bullshit (is it okay to say bullshit in a letter?)._

 _Well, that sums up pretty much all the questions I had in mind. They're not too intrusive, are they? You don't have to answer all of them if you think it's too personal. But I'd love it if you'd consider writing me regularly. As I told you: I don't receive that many letters from my family, and I miss people to talk to about other things than work and dragons._

 _I look forward receiving your answer._

 _Charlie_

She had so much she wanted to say and ask to this Charlie. She hadn't expected a letter of that size!

But before she could work on a reply, she thought she'd better ask her aunt and uncle to give her a ride to King's Cross. His uncle was rather bitter about giving her a lift. What was he expecting? Flying carpets?

"I just need to take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock. That's what the tickets say."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters. But all right. Petunia will get you there. She must know the way, I think."

That very night, she wrote to Charlie.

* * *

Notes

 _I noticed that in the Potterverse, even though all families were tied at one point or another to the Black family, there are only a few characters that are supposed to look like Blacks. In the descriptions, you never find common features. And it should be even more true, since pureblood wizards are fewer and fewer._

 _J.K. Rowling never said how squibs appeared in real life. I noted that squibs appeared in all kinds of families, whether they were purebloods (like Marius Black) or half-bloods (like Dolores Umbridge's brother). so it doesn't seem tied to the purity of the blood, or the magical ancestry. I think squibs are people that could be magical (they can interact with some magical objects like brooms, they bond with animals like Fildch and Mrs. Norris or Mrs. Figg and her kneazles, and one even made it to the Sorting Ceremony). There is always an even number of children in Hogwarts, that are sorted each year. To me, squibs are just people who don't have much magical power. Neville Longbottom thought he might have been a squib because he had only displayed magic when he had been 8, which is fairly old._

 _I'm not sure of this, but I bealieve Hogwarts, or some artifact there, acts like a beacon to the magical children. And there's always a quota to respect. In the_ _Philosopher's stone_ _, the first broom class with Slytherin and Gryffindor has 20 brooms, which indicates there is 10 children per House in each year, at least until they take their Owls. Some students, like the Weasley twins drop out. Anyway, it means that each year, by the 31st of July, the spell must have found 40 new students for Hogwarts. 40 isn't a great number, and it's only for Magical Britain. But it means there must be some sort of discrimination. When they are a few students too short, they include people with less magical power. That's how_ _Angus Buchanan made it to the Sorting Ceremony, only to learn that he was not magical. And what happens when they are too many wizard or witches born that year? They are left where they are.  
_

 _You don't belive me? Okay. Let's take a character who died in a magical outburst like Ariana Dumbledore. At first, I thought sh had died before the sorting ceremony. It could explain why she never attended Hogwarts, or any magical school. I checked the dates. She died in 1899 at 14 years old. She could have been in her third year. So, yes, she was traumatized and kept out of the public by her mother Kendra, but if her magic was incontrollable, she still should have been sent to Hogwarts. I can't tell about St. Mungo's since it would have been the family's choice. Hell! Albus Dumbledore became a Transfiguration teacher not long after his sister died. Well, he never really cared about her at the time, but that's a bit weird, right? She was never send to school when she should have been. Which, to me, means that she had not been counted amongst the children who were supposed to go to Hogwarts. Even if the (hypothetical) artefact who was supposed to sort magical children from muggles had detected her as disabled, because of her lack of control, that doesn't make her a squib._

 _So depending of the 40 quota, you could be in the wizard club, and having practically no magic in your body (like Crabbe, Goyle and to some extend Neville), or being a witch or a wizard and being left out (like Ariana Dumbledore, or the tragic Merope Gaunt). And the system keeps working as it is, because the MoM turns a blind eye. And with the growth of the population, either magic will be diluted and wizards will go extinct, or they will have a massive problem with the number of magical children. Especially if they make as many children as the Weasleys._

 _Actually they don't. They mostly have one children per couple. With the exception of muggleborns or half-bloods, most pureblood families have only one children at a time, by the time Harry gets born. The Black family had losts of children in the 19th century, and we don't know about the other families._

 _I talked a lot, didn't I ? So, tell me about my theory :_

 _\- Do you think there's a quota of new students who attend Hogwarts each year?_

 _\- What are squibs? Is it really about the magic you can do (or display), or is there a social factor in it?_

 _\- Do you know some other characters like Ariana Dumbledore or Merope Gaunt who should have gone to school, but stayed at home instead because they never received their letter ? Or any other reason, really ?_

 _Thank you for reading. Don't hesitate to review or ask questions in the comments or in PM._

 _See ya!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi everyone,_

 _Thank you for bearing with me !_

 _Hopefully I have a few chapters written in advance so I can publish regularly. Be prepared for a chapter every Sunday evening (in France... What time is it where you are ?)_

 _As always, see the end of the chapter for notes._

* * *

 _August 22, 1991_

 _Dear Charlie,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. I asked my neighbour, Mrs. Figg, to owl it if she could. I don't have an owl, and the one you sent attacked me because I couldn't feed it._

 _I'm Helia and you probably know I'm 11. I live in Surrey with my uncle and my aunt, and you're the first penfriend I ever had. The first friend really – I met a friend of my parents' recently and even though he was nice to me, I'm not sure I can claim him as my friend. Mrs. Figg asked the wombat group to get me a penpal (she's a squib). Did you know a month ago I had no idea I was a witch?_

 _I'm pretty nervous about Hogwarts and magic. My family is, nicely put, not really open to magic. They are muggles, and they pride themselves in being the most normal people there is. There is to say I grew up with people who weren't kind to magical phenomenon._

 _I'd love to fly. My parents' friend told me about Quidditch when we went to Diagon Alley. He compared it to baseball and basketball that are muggle sports, except with four balls and on flying brooms. He said the rules are complicated. I think I'd like to fly, only to escape my family for a few hours._

 _I don't really know about my ancestry. I only recently learn that my parents had died against You-Know-Who, and that they were both magical. My mother's side seem to be all muggles – I wouldn't know about my grandparents because they also died. So, I'll settle with half-blood, but I'm not sure about my father's blood._

 _Is blood a thing among wizards? I came across this horrible guy at Madam Malkins, Draco Malfoy, and he seemed to value me a little because I look like a Black. Are they like super wizards or something?_

 _There were a lot of questions, and I wasn't so sure about what to tell you. But I'll try answering you the best I can._

 _1 – Difficult question. I currently live in Surrey with my uncle, my aunt and my cousin. I don't know where my parents lived before they died and the Dursleys took me in. They don't like me much and my cousin bullies me._

 _2 – I guess I like reading? I don't think I have much hobbies, or I have yet to find some I really like._

 _3 – My parents' friend told me they all met in Gryffindor. It seemed like a good one. Ravenclaw seems pretty neutral. I never studied much, mostly because having better grades than my stupid cousin is almost considered as a crime. I like to learn, though. Hufflepuff, I don't know, since I have no friends. As for Slytherin, if I can understand why one would like to find loopholes, I'm not sure I'd like to share a house with Draco Malfoy._

 _4 – Again, I don't have friends: my cousin tends to make them go away. I guess the more the better, but I'm not sure I'd know how to behave near them. The friendliest people I've came across so far were adults, so it's not the same kind of relationships._

 _5 – My dream: leaving the Dursleys and never coming back. They don't like me, and I don't like them either. They hate the fact that I am a witch – especially uncle Vernon. So, I guess Hogwarts is a big step to accomplish that dream. Maybe I'll try to become independent. Is there a way to be emancipated in the wizarding world?_

 _6 – What an incredible family! I wish I had a brother or a sister. But, they'd probably be treated as bad as I am…_

 _7 – I don't want to be close to my family. They're treating Dudley as if he was some kind of little prince. But, I must admit that things had gotten a bit better since I got my letter. It was a bit funky because my family's friend had to force them to take me to DIagon Alley. But we had somewhat of a discussion with my aunt the other day. Maybe there are parts we can salvage?_

 _8 – I never tried roasted lamb. As for my all-time favorite, I must pick the brunch I had in Diagon Alley._

 _9 – I mostly listen to the radio. I quite like Michael Jackson and The Clash. I don't know if you're familiar with these artists. I had never heard of the ones you mentioned._

 _10 – For a long time I wanted to trade places with Dudley, having loving parents and all… But in the end, I don't know if I want that trade. Maybe I'll find another child with a better life to trade with me. And if I had to trade with a celebrity… No idea, really._

 _11 – Actually I am a bit famous, and I don't think I like it. My parents' friend had to hide my features when we went to Diagon Alley. I feel like everyone has something to say about my life, and it feels super weird. I lived outside magical world and now I'm a celebrity? It doesn't make sense! I'd rather be famous for something I actually remember._

 _12 – I don't have a friend, so a best friend…._

 _13 – If that money was mine, I'm sorry to say I'll keep it for myself! My family didn't give me any reason to share with them. So, depending on the lottery, I'll spend a bit to either buy myself a home, or I'll try to redecorate my room. Starting by putting a fridge near my bed. Or buying takeout food, so I won't have to cook anymore. Paying someone to do all the chores would be nice._

 _14 – I'd want my parents to still be alive and be happy with them. I don't need any more wishes._

 _15 – Funny how I replied that earlier! I like reading, mostly because it's something calm I can do in all sorts of places where Dudley can't reach me. I like novels, but I never heard of Mr. Lockhart's books. They must not sell outside the wizarding world. I used to like fantastic stuff (about ghost and strange mysteries), but since I know magic is real, it's a bit weird to enjoy them. Maybe I'll settle for thrillers or science fiction - don't tell me magic is going to ruin them as well !_

 _I did end up writing a lot, didn't I? I thought of asking questions as well, but I fear this is going to be too much._

 _When you say you want me to write regularly, how much is that? Every week should be doable – but I don't know if I'll have time with all the homework I'll have at Hogwarts._

 _I hoped you liked this letter and bear with me,_

 _Helia_

September 1st, she woke up with apprehension. The digital numbers on the clock glowed angrily, showing how much sleep she was missing because of her nerves. She checked the contents of her school trunk again. Mrs Figg had given her cat food, a cat basket and a self-cleaning litter for Laudine, and she had stolen sandwiches her aunt had made the day before (how fitting).

A few hours later, she and Aunt Petunia managed to load her trunk in the car. Vernon was all red as he saw Laudine for the first time, but his wife didn't leave him the time to comment. They didn't speak much during the drive. A strange silence had settled between them, and neither knew how to break it. Neither seemed to want it. They reached Kings Cross at half past 10. They had trouble putting it on a wheel, the trunk being heavy even for the two of them: it fitted a cauldron, a dozen heavy books and all her clothes.

They pushed the cart with difficulty until they reached the Platforms nine and ten.

"What platform did you say it should be again?" her aunt finally aked.

"Nine and three quarters. It says on the ticket."

"Yes, but why can't we see it?"

"Magic?"

Helia shrugged. Magic seemed the answer to everything. Helpfully, Aunt Petunia stopped a guard to ask about the train to Hogwarts, somewhere in Scotland. He must have found there were some weirdos: there were no train departing to Hogsmeade at 11 o' clock. The look her aunt gave the man made him shrivel, and he went away.

Seeing her straightened back, Helia was strangely proud of her relative. She, who was so fixated on being normal, was asking other muggles to find a magical location.

They were growing more and more annoyed. They soon have but a few minutes left and the train was nowhere in sight. Her aunt must have never gone to the train station with her mother back when they were young. And Remus had given her no indication. Where was she supposed to go?

"Helia!" her aunt called. "Come here, these people are going to help us!"

Heart hammering, she turned her cart around. Her aunt had never called her by her name. She had always been "the girl" or "my sister's daughter" in her mouth. The blonde woman was standing near a plump woman and her five readhead children. Were they wizards?

She should ask Charlie if all wizard families had a lot of children.

"Here's my niece, Helia. We're not familiar with…." Aunt Petunia started.

"First time at Hogwarts? This is Ron's first time as well." She showed the youngest of the boys, a tall thin and gangling preteen. "But why don't we show you? Percy, you go!"

Did she say… Before she could process the information, the oldest boy walked between the platform nine and ten. She observed closely as he confidently guided his cart right into the brick call. But as he reached it, a group of tourists hid him from her view and she missed his entrance. When they left, he was gone.

"Fred, you next," she said to one of the twins.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George. Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred."

And there he went. A second later, he was at the wall – and vanished. But… How? His twin soon followed, and just as suddenly was nowhere to be found in the blink of an eye.

Then Helia noticed how tense her aunt was.

"Do you want to go together?"

She realized the words were out of her mouth before she thought them.

"Don't worry dearies, it's quite simple. All you have to do is to walk straight at the barrier between the platforms. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron"

"Okay, "Helia said in a breath.

Two pair of hands closed on the trolley's handle. Laudine mewled loudly in the cart. Helia looked at the wall. It looked exactly like a brick wall. Like any brick wall. But the brick wall before Diagon Alley had been real as well.

They started walking fast. They didn't care about the people looking them funny. They were going through this barrier. They broke into a run, fully knowing they couldn't stop. Aunt Petunia shared a glance with her. All she saw was a pair of determined green eyes. Helia prepared for the crash.

It didn't come. They kept running to a smoking red steam engine near a platform full of people. A platform that hadn't been there before. People that were too strangely dressed to be muggles.

"Oh dear," aunt Petunia choked. Helia swore it sounded almost like a sob.

"Here we are…" she muttered.

"I never believed her when she told me about it…" the woman muttered.

They walked into the rainbow-coloured crowd. The steam coming from the engine gave an eerie feeling. Cats and other animals with improbable fur could be found here and there. Each space a cat didn't fit, she could see hooting owls. The first carriages were filled with students hanging from the windows.

They moved until they found an empty compartment by the end of the train. There was a boy who was complaining about his lost toad to a strict old lady. She saw her aunt and the old lady assessing one another with a glare as she managed to get Laudine in the train. She then tried to lift the trunk all by herself but didn't manage.

"Neville! Don't you see Helianthemum is having troubles? Lend her a hand, would you?"

"Yes, Gran." The blonde and chubby boy. Helia successively cringed at the use of her name and blushed with he gawked at her shyly.

Even with Neville's help, they didn't manage much. As they were sweating and wearing under the critical eyes of her aunt and his grandmother, the redhead twins were there. Helia hadn't noticed it earlier, but they were quite bulky.

"Need a hand?" one asked and she could only nod.

He stared at her forehead before managing to tuck her truck in the comportment. They did the same with Neville's. As she thanked them, sweeping her brow, they stared at her.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Helia's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you…"

"She is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Helia.

"What?"

"Helianthemum Potter, "chorused the twins.

She gritted her teeth and grew red again.

"Could you just… call me Helia?"

"It's catchy."

"It's pretty."

"But the shade of your face matches…"

"…the shade of the flower you're named after"

Did they always finish each other's sentences? Their mom called them outside at the same time Neville's grandmother and her aunt did the same. They headed down to the station. As they met, the old lady gave her grandson a hard stare. Immediately he moved in front of Helia and bowed deeply.

"Helianthemum Dorea Lily Potter, my name is Neville Antares Longbottom. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Then he motioned to take her hand. Helia drew back so hard she almost knocked her aunt down. Petunia steadied her. The boy looked wounded, as if he had just kicked him in the face.

"What the…" she started.

"Child, have you no manners?" the woman barked.

"I'm sorry?" her aunt replied. "How dare you? Bowing and knowing her full name doesn't entitle your grandson to take my niece's hand!"

"And how would you know? You're just an ignorant muggle!"

During their fight, the train whistled. They had to hurry.

"Neville, let's go!" she yelled.

They hurried to the train as their elders kept on bickering. Seating near the window, they observed the two women hissing at one another. Suddenly it seemed like it was resolved, because they looked at them sternly.

"Have a good term!" Aunt Petunia said.

"Thanks!" Helia replied. And felt complied to add. "Thanks for the sandwiches, too!"

They shared a smile. The first they ever did.

"Will you write?" her aunt asked, almost meekly.

"I'll try."

The train began to move. Neville's grandmother started to remind him about a lot of things. She wondered how he could remember all of them. She half expected the old lady to hang herself to the train with her cane to keep ordering her grandson around.

Helia felt a pang of excitement as the platform disappeared. Houses flashed past the window. She was leaving her old and sad life behind. After a moment of silence, she looked at Neville and extended a hand.

"I'm Helia Potter. Please don't ever use my full name again. And uh… I didn't mean to be disrespectful earlier. You… surprised me."

"Who was that lady with you? She yelled at my Gran. Nobody dares." He sounded impressed.

"She's my aunt. She's a muggle."

"Oh," he said as if it explained everything. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I'm not used to people touching me."

The conversation continued awkwardly with Neville explaining the Pureblood introduction. Apparently, it was polite for a wizard, or a witch wishing to interact with another one, to say their name first. The old traditions were getting lost, but his grandmother was very strict about it. The more you bowed showed the respect you gave the other person. The more the other person let you approach your lips to their hand showed the trust they had in you.

"It's like hand-kissing for the nobles?"

"Oh… Hum… Hand-kissing is a bit…" Neville was really red. "I mean if you have a house ring, you can do it. Kissing a house ring is a sign of allegiance. But kissing a lady's hand is for courting."

Her face grew warm.

"Yeah, well… Given the kiss and if it is done in public or not, it indicates lots of things…"

He was rambling about etiquette now! It was even worse!

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redhead stepped in.

"Hey guys, everything else is full. Is it cool if I seat with you?"

They both nod eagerly, and he sat down. She noted two things. 1: he hadn't introduced himself to them. 2: Neville seemed embarrassed.

Ron was staring at her brow. He turned his head when she looked at him, pretending he hadn't been looking. She combed her hair with her fingers to hide her scar better. Neville just look more embarrassed. There was a black mark on the redhaired boy's nose.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Helia," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye!" Ron said.

At least they had introduced themselves. But they hadn't bowed. She glanced at Neville.

"They didn't bow like you did. Although, I remember meeting with that other boy at Madam Malkin's, and he didn't bow."

"Yeah, well, the old traditions are just stupid." Ron growled. Then his eyes lit up: "Say, are you really Helianthemum Potter?"

"Yes, and it's Helia."

"And that's where You-Know-Who…" he blurted, pointing her brow.

This boy was really rude. She sighed and glared at him.

Neville stood up and slightly bowed to Ron. Helia was under the impression he had bowed deeper for her. This looked like a complicated language.

"Ronald Billius Weasley, my name is Neville Antares Longbottom."

"Yeah mate, I got it. Can't you just sit down? You're making me nervous with your oldies manners."

"Wizards don't do that?" Helia asked.

"Some Purebloods do. I think it's a lack of time."

"Well, most of it is about politics." Neville told her. "Some wizards value it, others don't."

"Depends on whose side you are. Dad has to do it with almost all the ministry's officials."

The conversation changed when Neville suddenly remembered he had lost his toad earlier. Helia thought the children from a magic family would know lots of spells by now, but it seemed that Ron and Neville didn't. They finally settled on finding a prefect in the centre of the train.

Fortunately, because Ron was Percy's brother, he agreed to use a spell named _Accio_ to get Neville's pet back. When they returned to their compartment, Helia knew she would mention to Charlie she had met his family.

"I wish I had wizard brothers like you do," she said.

"Yeah, me too." Neville added.

"You would be the only ones. Apart from Mom's second cousin, everyone's a wizard. I'm the sixth one to go to Hogwarts. And you could say I got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have jobs. Bill was Head Boy, Charlie was a Quidditch captain, now Percy's a prefect too… Even if they are messing around, Fred and George have good grades, and everyone thinks they're funny. I can't do anything they did first."

"That's a lot to take." Helia commented. "Since I know I'm a witch, I don't have to compare to my cousin Dudley, and that's such a relief!"

"My Gran expects a lot from me as well, because I'm the Longbottom heir. She wants to take after my father, but I have nothing special."

"Well at least your things aren't hands me down. I got the Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand and Percy's old rat!"

Oh, that explained why Laudine was rattling in her cage, then. She'd better keep her inside all the way to Hogwarts.

"I got my Dad's old wand." Neville mumbled. "It's the only thing You-Know-Who's follower left intact."

The compartment was gloomy again. She looked at Neville under a new light. Apparently, his family had suffered too, and Ron's had not.

To distract them, Ron got out his old grey rat from his pocket. He looked half dead or asleep. His name was Scabbers. He was embarrassed that such an ugly creature was a hand-me-down. Helia didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford stuff. She never had any money from the Dursleys, and she still hadn't accessed her vaults at Gringotts. So, she told them about how all her clothes were old ones from Dudley.

When the cart lady came with candies, Ron and Helia both refused. They had nothing to pay with. But Neville had a few galleons on him, so he bought them enough to fill the last place inside the empty seats between them. Helia looked closely at the candies, but she saw no Mars bars or M&M's. She didn't recognize the brands on the bright packages.

"Hey, any of you wants a sandwich with corned beef per chance? Mom always forgets I hate it."

Helia checked what Aunt Petunia had left for her in the fridge. It looked like regular bacon-egg-salad sandwich. She traded one with Ron and one with Neville.

"I'm sorry they're a bit dry. There's four of us in Hogwarts."

"Feel free to take a pasty." Neville mumbled.

He was happily smiling. Helia shared his little bubble of happiness. She never had that much of friendly time before.

They make her try lots of new candies. Chocolate frogs were among her favourites, even though it made Neville a bit sick. She was surprised to see Dumbledore gone from his card. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans were an experience too. It wasn't good or bad, but definitely not her first choice of candies.

After a fright with Trevor (Neville's toad), they decided to leave the window closed. To change their friend's mood, Ron got his wand out to make some magic. He looked embarrassed at the chips on the wood and the white thing glinting in the end.

As the countryside grew greener and greener, someone knocked at their compartment and slid it open. It was a girl with tanned skin and impossible bushy hair. She was already wearing her robes.

"Is the seat available? I've been kicked out of my compartment." She said, as she was already sitting.

"Knock yourself out…" Helia drawled. People were rude these days.

"Why would she knock herself out? I mean she took the seat but that's rather violent!" Ron commented.

"That's a muggle saying. It means the same thing as "go for it". That means she wasn't bothered at all. But that mean you're probably a muggleborn too. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

After her rapid fire, she extended a hand. Helia was the only one to shook it. Ron ignored it and Neville bowed slightly.

"My name is Neville Antares Longbottom." He said.

"Oh, you're a pureblood, right. And you, of course, are Helianthemum Potter. I saw your scar."

"It's Helia. Just Helia." She groaned and hid her scar back.

"I read all about you. You're in several books including _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"That's… very thorough." Neville commented.

"It was only for background reading. And, by the way, you shouldn't shorten your name like that. It won't give you much power, but maybe you'll use the Girl-Who-Lived as a pseudo."

"Right…" she muttered. "Why did you say the people in your last compartment didn't want you?"

"They didn't like I was a Muggleborn. Which is stupid, given that Tracy is a half-blood, and that many theories indicates that blood purity has nothing to do with the strength of one's magic. The most powerful wizards were half-bloods, like Albus Dumbledore. Also, they all wanted to be in Slytherin, but I'm mostly partial to Gryffindor since Dumbledore was in it. But I suppose Ravenclaw won't be too bad either."

During her speech, Ron had carefully pocketed his wand. Neville and him practically leaped of joy when the new girl suggested they changed into their robes. They abandoned Helia inside the compartment without a second thought.

She used that time to get Laudine out. And since the feline didn't mind Hermione's petting, she decided the girl was not so bad. Even though she filled the room with too many words that made her head spin.

When Ron and Neville were back, Hermione immediately fired them questions about wizards and their life. Laudine had settled on Helia's shoulders. Her purring calmed her as she listened to the almost one-sided conversation.

"My parents were Aurors. My Gran never worked in the Ministry, though she did a lot of politics."

"My Dad works in the Ministry, something about regulating the misuses of muggle objects. My mom has her hands full with us, I guess. Charlie's been studying dragons in Romania and Bill's doing something for Gringotts in Africa."

"Did you hear what happened in Gringotts?" Neville asked. "It's crazy anyone tries to attack goblins."

"Is it? I know they have these horrible roller-coaster inside. Opening an account was a plague."

"Is it? I haven't been in my vaults yet." Helia commented. "The goblins put a high security, right?"

"Yeah! Bill says there's even a dragon there! But, yeah, the dudes who tried to rob a high security vault Gringotts are crazy." Rib said. "But the craziest part is that they haven't taken anything. My Dad says it must have been a powerful Dark Wizard."

"My Gran says You-Know-Who's behind it."

"But… He's dead, right?" Hermione asked.

They all looked at Helia with confused or frowning faces. Again, as she caught them staring, the boys turned their head away. Only Hermione was left, muttering something she didn't hear.

"So…. Hum… What's your favourite Quidditch team?" Ron asked to lighten the mood.

"Wimbourne Wasps." Neville said confidently.

"Whaaaat? What a joke! I'm all for the Chudley Cannons! And you?"

"Er… I don't know any team," Helia said. "I heard of the Cannons, though, but I don't really know."

"I'm not interested in Quidditch. The rules are nonsensical if you ask me," Hermione said.

"Oh, come on! It's the best game there is!"

And there they were explaining the rules to Helia and debating the use of each ball. Because the discussion led nowhere, Ron talked about the brooms he'd like to have. Neville mumbled something about being afraid of heights. He was explaining the different games he had been with his brothers when the compartment opened again.

Three boys entered: Draco Malfoy and two big gorillas. He looked very interested as he looked at them.

"Is it true? All the train is saying the great Helianthemum Potter is in that train and you're the last compartment. So, I have this girl who's a muggleborn and you."

He seemed puzzled a little.

"Weren't you blonde the other day?" he asked. "I met you in that shop, didn't I?"

"Yes," said Helia. She looked at the goonies with him. They worried her.

"Helianthemum Dorea Lily Potter, my name is Draco Cygnus Malfoy. I apologize for my behaviour the other day. I didn't know it was you."

Draco bowed lower than he did in the shop, then went for her hand. She quickly looked at Neville, in case he knew what she should do in this situation. The chubby boy's face was reddening, and he was hesitating. Helia frowned, seeing the confident smirk on the blonde's lips, as he lifted her hand.

Neville stood. Laudine stopped purring and perked up. She felt her claws digging in her shoulders.

"Draco Cygnus Malfoy, my name is Neville Antares Longbottom," he suddenly said while standing and bowing, forcing the other boy to move away from her.

"Longbottom." Draco bowed back. "I see you have a bit of a taste, allying yourself with a pureblood heir, Helianthemum Potter. But you'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others."

"Listen, uh… Malfoy. I think you and your friends are a little too much in this compartment. It's getting a bit crowded."

He looked at her, as if she had just slapped him, a pink twinge on his cheeks.

"I see how it is, _Potter_. I'd be careful if I were you. You should learn to be polite to other people. Hanging around with Muggleborns and blood-traitors will tarnish whatever reputation your name still has."

"Say that again!"

Ron stood, his face was as red as his hair. Neville was red too as he stepped to stand between Malfoy and her. Hermione whimpered and shrunk in the corner she was. One of Malfoy's bodyguards sneered at her. On her shoulders, Laudine stood.

"Oh, you really are poorly educated, Wesley. You think you're going to fight? With me?"

"Please leave, there is no need for us to fight." Helia ordered from behind Neville.

He was taller than her, so she mustered much courage than she should have. But the people with Draco Malfoy were even more muscular than Dudley. Boy, did she know what it felt to be beaten up by meaty hands like theirs. Laudine discretely hopped down on the seat.

"You're speaking a lot, Potter. But what if we don't feel like leaving? Crabbe? Goyle? You feel like leaving?"

"No, Mr. Malfoy."

"No, Mr. Malfoy."

"See? So, we'll settle here. Of course, these two will have to go," he said while casually showing Ron and Hermione.

One of the big boys reached towards the candies near Ron. The redhead didn't have the time to leap at him before the kneazle jumped on his face. He let out a horrible yelp as he tried to take the animal off him. Malfoy and the other goon backed out of the compartment as their companion howled and pain and swung his arms around.

"Laudine, stop!" Helia exclaimed.

The boy was immediately free, deep scratches on his face. The feline trotted back inside the room and jumped up on a seat. The trio immediately flew off after Malfoy gave her a venomous, but frightened look. Laudine started grooming herself, as if nothing had just happened.

"Bloody hell!" Ron let out.

"Did your cat just attack another student? Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble and the year hasn't even started yet."

Neville sat down, his lips quivering. He looked deeply frightened.

"Did you see the look on that guy's face! It was priceless!" Ron laughed.

"We're in such a mess, now…" Neville muttered.

"Oh yes! They'll probably tell a prefect and we'll be punished."

"It's not that, Hermione. But because Helia called Malfoy by his surname."

"Don't tell me it's another pureblood crappy rule" Ron sighed. "Wait. Actually, please tell me how deep we insulted this Malfoy. His whole family's probably a bunch of followers of You-Know-Who! They said they've been bewitched, but my Dad doesn't believe it."

They all sat down calmly as Neville composed himself.

"Okay, so there are several cases here. When we introduce ourselves to another witch or wizard, we say their full name and our full name, and then we bow. Then, after we have properly been introduced, the way we call each other can indicate a lot of things."

"But, you stood when this boy tried to hand-kiss Helia's hand," Hermione pointed out.

"Well, she didn't seem to like it." Neville muttered blushing. "So, I stopped him from making any gesture against or for her."

"In a hand-kiss" Ron said dubiously.

"Well, in some parts of muggle society, if you take he hand but don't put your lips on it, it's very proper. But if you kiss it, depending on what the contact is, and how long it lasts, it can mean a lot."

Helia shuddered, imagining that boy kissing her hand.

"Well, that's exactly how it is," Neville said. "Its about respect and intentions about the other person."

"Intentions?" Ron asked, seeing Neville blush again.

"Oh… You mean like courting or something?" Hermione asked. "It seems very antique to me. Is that really a thing in wizarding world?"

"For those who respect the Old Ways, it is," Neville said.

"I think it's a lot of bull." Ron said.

"It sounds really complicated," Helia admitted. "But why did you stop him if it's a tradition?"

"Well… you didn't want me doing it in the train station and you seemed lost… Plus, you didn't know anything about our traditions, so I thought I might save you from making a faux-pas…"

"So…. That means you stopped Malfoy from doing anything creepy?" Ron asked.

"I prevented him to show any intentions towards her by making him acknowledge my presence. It's like I was asking him to tell me first before he could say or do anything to Helia."

"That's why he called you her ally, then?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. But… That made him angry. He only used my family name, so that means his esteem of me is low. However, he looked at me when he spoke, which means he recognized me as Helia's ally and a possible threat to him."

"So, when I called him "Malfoy", he was angry because I was basically saying he was my enemy."

"Malfoy _is_ the enemy!" Ron said.

"Because she made a mistake, he was insulted? That seems harsh." Hermione commented.

"Well, nobody knows she had been raised by muggles. Basically, she was a half-blood telling a pureblood she was not his friend."

"Well, I probably won't be now that my cat attacked his goons."

"Your cat is the best!" Ron declared. "But please keep it away from Scabbers."

The train finally slowed down as they discussed how important manners were to blood purists.

A voice echoed through the train, announcing their arrival. Helia's stomach lurched. Ron crammed his pockets with all the sweets he could reach. Hermione was combing her impossible hair. Neville was fidgeting on his seat.

Anxious, Helia and her newfound friends joined the crowd outside.

* * *

 _I'm trying to get some inspiration from all the folklore around the bourgeoisie and aristocracy, and try to make it fit in the wizarding world. I wish I had an etiquette book to use, unfortunately those I have found mostly make women look like a weather vane. Like you have to be pretty but not so much. So, even though I think it's realistic, I'm not sure how much I'll put inside the story.  
_

 _Anyway I hope all the rules I'm throwing in will be coherent. I try as much as I can not to copy Brilliant Lady's rules about the Old Ways, but I was inspired by her (and other works from various authors like The Carnivorous Muffin, the very famous Less Wrong, betagyre and a few other works that I was unfortunately not able to find back online)._

 _As always, thanks for reading. And fon't forget to read and review :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello!_

 _I wanted to publish this chapter yesterday, but I had too any things to do. So... Here it is !_

 _I hope you'll enjoy it._

* * *

A crowd is like a giant living organism with no heads or tails. It moves according to its own headless logic. Alone in this giant beast that pushed and pulled, Helia shuddered.

The dark and tiny platform filled her with anguish. She had no idea where to go. Suddenly, a giant lamp bobbled above their head, carried by a big hairy man. His face was most entirely eaten by his shaggy mane and his tangly beard.

"First years! First years over here!" he called.

The dancing light momentarily caught his features. His beetle-black eyes glinted as they saw her.

"Oh, you're little Helianthemum. Hello!" He beamed at her. "I haven't introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I was a friend of your parents."

Helia nodded at him, completely tense. She wondered how many friends her parents had.

"Everyone here? Come on, follow me! And mind your step!"

Stumbling in the dark, they followed the giant and his lamp. The path was narrow and steep. Neville lost his toad once again, but they couldn't find it without losing the group. They could hear him sniffle the entire slippery way

Hagrid announced when Hogwarts came to view. Perched on a rocky mountain, on the other side of a dark black lake, stood a majestic castle. Windows glowed like a myriad of stars. They shone on the lake, like will-o'-the-wisps. Helia was stumped. A castle! She was about to live in a castle!

"No more than four per boat!" Hagrid yelled as a fleet of barks sailed towards them.

Hermione, Helia, Ron and Neville shared one. They clearly saw Malfoy shadowed with his two gorillas on another rejecting an unlucky student. Hagrid was all by himself.

Under the giant's orders, the boats sailed to the other side of the lake. As they went under the cliff on which Hogwarts was seated, they all bent their heads under a curtain of ivy. They reached underground harbour. Hagrid luckily found Trevor in one of the boats, before they all followed him again in a passageway. The rocky stairs had been smoothed by the numerous feet of the first years who had come here before. At the top was a large oak door.

The air was freezing. Helia was glad she had Laudine curled on her shoulders. The cat was still little. She doubted she could carry it with the same ease by the end of schoolyear.

After checking they were all here, Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. It swung open at one. Inside, a tall black-haired witch cladded in emerald-green robes stood there. Her stony face intimidated Helia. She'd be cautious around her.

"Professor McGonagall, these are the first years."

"Thank you, Hagrid, I'll take it from here. Follow me, please."

She pulled the door wide and invited them inside. The entrance hall was so big! Flaming torches lighted the gigantic place. Silenced by its majesty, the future students advanced in silence. The rest of the school must have been near that noisy place ahead – Helia heard hundreds of voices. But the woman led them inside a small chamber where they crowded in. People were standing way too close for her liking. And even the soothing presence of Neville – her new so-called ally, her breath was short.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly. But before any of you can take your seat, you must be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony. For your entire school years at Hogwarts, your school House will be your new home. You will have classes with your housemates, sleep in the same dormitory and spend your free time in the same Common Room."

She explained what which house was, and that there was a system of shared points and a competition based on these houses. The better you behaved, and apparently won Quidditch matches, the more likely you'd be to win the House Cup.

"The ceremony will begin shortly. I suggest you don't make idiots of yourselves." she said before turning to Neville and Helianthemum. "You two, please note that pets are not allowed in the Great Hall or during class. The elves are going to tend to them. You'll find them on your respective beds tonight."

She left them to their own device. Suddenly, Laudine was gone from her shoulders.

'The elves?" Helia asked. "Where's my cat?"

"The House Elves. They are magical creatures that run the kitchens and do the cleaning up. Mostly." Neville informed her.

"And, how do we get chosen?" she asked next.

"Fred said there's some kind of test. He said it hurt a lot… But I think it's rubbish… I hope?"

"A test? On what? Oh, if only I had my books to revise one last time…" Hermione muttered. "I know about a lot of spells, but any of them can come up, right? I think of…"

As Hermione was whispering, Helia nervously looked around her. Everyone else looked as terrified as she was. She had never felt that inadequate, even though she had made lots of stir when she was younger with accidental magic. She jolted and hid behind Neville when twenty ghosts in an intense conversation invaded the room.

But their tentative kindness was met with more fright. The sharp voice of Professor McGonagall was a relief when she ordered them to form a line.

Helia hid her scar back and untangled her hand from Neville's clothes. She got in line behind a boy with sandy hair, Ron just behind her. They walked out of their chamber and through a pair of double oak doors that led into the Great Hall.

If the entrance of Hogwarts had been big and impressive – she could have fitted at least two houses, this room was even greater. Lit up by a multitude of floating candles, the students were seating on four long tables. One had green and silver decorations, the other black and yellow, the third one blue and bronze and the last one gold and red. On the tables were glittering cups and plates and forks and knives that looked more expensive than the Dursley's silverware. And at the top of the hall was a last table with the teachers behind it.

Helia looked at her feet, blushing, when she felt numerous eyes burning on her skin.

"The sky is bewitched to look like the sky. I read about it in _Hogwarts, a History_ ," Hermione muttered from somewhere.

They stopped before an antique chair, with a raggedy hat on it. Helia looked at it dubiously. What was that for? A magic trick? Were they going to pick their names out if it or something? Everyone was silent and looking at the hat, waiting for… something. But somewhere on the fabric, a mouth formed with two folds began to sing.

A hat. A singing hat was doing the Sorting! Some… piece of clothing doing the entire ceremony that would impact their entire time at Hogwarts. Wizards were barking mad!

"Just wearing a hat, that's easy!" Ron said. "Fred said we were going to wrestle a troll!"

Professor McGonagall stepped forward and started calling names from a long roll of parchment. Hannah Abbott was sorted into Hufflepuff with Susan Bones. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst were the first Ravenclaw. The first Gryffindor was a girl named Lavender Brown. Millicent Bullstrode was the first Slytherin.

Helia was reminded of team sports when she was always chosen last because nobody wanted Dudley to think they liked her. Even though many said she was a good runner, and fairly accurate when it came to catch or throw balls.

The hat wasn't always having a simple choice, he noticed. A whole minute was necessary to decide the future of one Hermione Granger. The thought that she'd be sorted into Gryffindor with him made Ron groan. Hopefully, Neville was sorted into Gryffindor.

When he was called, Draco Malfoy smirked at Helia and whispered that his offer of friendship still stood, granted that they joined the same House. It was no surprise when he took the seat his gorillas had saved for him at the Slytherin table. He looked too pleased with himself to be true.

Her name was called at last. The entire room broke into whispered.

"Did McGonagall call Potter?"

"You mean, Helianthemum Potter?"

"I see her! I see her!"

"I hope she gets into our House!"

"She's so tiny! Just look at her! A gust of wind could blow away the Girl-Who-Lived."

The next think the saw when she was on the stool, was the inside of the hat. Then, his gritty voice started speaking.

 _Gritty, is it? I hear you didn't like the song._

She was surprised he could read into her mind like a knife cut through butter.

 _So, what will it be… There are many things in that head. Things you know, and things you are not aware yet. You're full of bravery, but bravery sometimes isn't enough. I see a good mind, but you don't use it much because of that cousin of yours… Oh, interesting. There's ambition here. Plenty of ambition for the future Lady Potter. So, where shall I put you?_

She had found friendly people onboard that train. She'd rather stick with them than with Malfoy. So, Gryffindor and not Slytherin.

 _Do you hear yourself thinking or not? Parts of you have always dreamed to be in Slytherin! It could help you in the way of greatness. Cunning is a good quality, for those who know how to use it. But if you're so sure of yourself._

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat yelled.

She took off the hat and wobbly walked to the Gryffindor table. She was getting embarrassed by all these cheers. Percy the prefect even shook her hand.

"Welcome Helianthemum Potter. If I had known it was you asking about this lost toad…"

"Ah, yes… Please to meet you. Percy Weasley, isn't it? Please call me Helia. I like it better."

"Does that mean we're friends if we can call each other by our surnames?" he asked, beaming.

"I… suppose so?"

"Hey, Pierce! Don't keep Helia to yourself…"

"…we found her first."

She blushed again. The Weasley family was either very rude, or very strange, but very friendly in the end. A half-hearted smile bloomed on her lips. She asked them who was Fred and who was George. She thought it would be tricky to recognize them, but she noticed that each brother had a different eye colour.

Ron had pretty azure blue eyes. Fred's irises were darker, like blue-jean. George had eyes that changed more with the light than his twin, and they looked more like deep seas. As for Percy, his were clear but brown behind his glasses.

She wondered what colour Charlie's eyes were.

As more children were sent to the tables, she could see the High Table clearer. At one hand sat the giant man named Hagrid that lead them here. He happily waved at her when their eyes crossed. He seemed nice, so she grinned back. There were other teachers wearing different colours, mostly greens and blues and purples. She wondered if it had anything to do with the four houses, or if these were the trend among wizard. One of the teachers had ginormous glasses and wore a large dress covered in tickets. She looked like a mix between an old hippie and Mrs. Figg. She was in deep conversation with a little man. Percy told her it was Professor Flitwick, and Hermione remarked he looked like a goblin. Helia wondered why he was granted a wand with these pro-wizards politics Remus talked about. In the middle of the High table, she recognized Albus Dumbledore (thanks to her chocolate cards). Next to him was an empty seat, probably for Professor McGonagall. Professor Quirrell was near the other end of the table, with his overly large purple turban.

Only thinking of the smell of garlic surrounding him brought back a headache, so she turned her head away.

Ron finally joined their group of four. Percy seemed relieved he was there. When Ron saw her being friendly and trying to tell Fred apart from George, he told her not to bother. They frowned, and she could practically see the gears turning in their heads.

"Best way they try to fuck you up." He added

"Language, Ron!" warned Percy.

"You're not Mom!"

"No, but I can write to her, and take points off."

"That jerk will try taking points off at any of our moves anyway," Fred said.

"And he'll write to Mom anyways, that little twat."

"Language, you two."

As the four brothers were bickering, joking and mocking in turn, Helianthemum's attention went back to the headmaster. He magnificently welcomed them to Hogwarts… and ended his talk with nonsense.

"Is he… mad?" she asked Percy.

"Mad? The man's brilliant! Best wizard in the world. But maybe he's a bit peculiar, yes. Potatoes?"

Her mouth fell when she noticed the plates and dishes filled with so much food. She had never seen a table filled with so many things. So many she liked, and she didn't know how to choose. She had never been picky before: the Dursleys never fed her enough. Or rather, they let her eat anything Dudley didn't want or took from her. She filled her plate with a bit of everything.

"That looked delicious," a voice remarked above them.

She jumped, seeing one of the ghosts from earlier.

"Don't worry Heliant… Helia, he's just Sir Nicholas? He's Gryffindor's ghost."

"Ghosts aren't dangerous. It's not like we could harm you in any way, Miss" the ghost said.

His hand ruffled her hair. She let like she had just dumped ice on her scalp.

"Oh! You're Nearly Headless Nick!" Ron exclaimed with his mouth full of… with his mouth full.

"Please, refer to me as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy, Mr. Weasley."

"Nearly Headless?" asked the sandy-haired boy near them (Seamus Finnigan?) "How can you be nearly headless?"

The ghost looked miffed and demonstrated by pulling his ear. Something opened in his neck, and only a tiny strip of skin was holding his head on his shoulders. Helia closed her eyes and put her food back in her plate with disgust. Hermione glared at Ron and the other boy. The other people near them looked various stages of disgust or amazement. Looking pleased at their reactions, the ghost welcomed them into Gryffindor.

"So, new Gryffindors! I hope you'll be able to help win the House cup this year. Slytherin has won it six times in a row already. The Bloody Baron has become insufferable – he's Slytherin's ghost over there."

"The one will blood on him?" Helia asked.

"How did he manage that?" Seamus added.

"I've never asked," Sir Nicholas said delicately.

"It doesn't seem really polite," Helia agreed. "Tell me, Sir Nicholas, were you a noble, or something."

"I was a knight, Miss Potter. Please, don't hesitate to call. I'll come to your rescue, as my honour requires."

"Oh… but… I am not a Lady yet, right Neville? Not without the Potter ring, no?"

Meekly, the chubby boy nodded. As dinner progressed, he explained to her what as requested to be considered the Leader of their own House. It had little political influence these days, considering that most of the wizarding world was made of half or new blood – wizards and witches mixing with muggles or coming from muggle families entirely. But, it still had a lot of importance with the old and traditional families. Given that she was tied to the Black family, and one of its possible heirs, it was important to respect the old ways. It was also important because she was the Girl-Who-Lived.

"Malfoy… Well, I don't know how I should name him. I mean, he looks like a daddy's boy, but I don't want to start causing troubles. Can I be just neutral?"

"Call him by his full name, Draco Cygnus Malfoy, or just Draco Malfoy." Neville suggested.

"Isn't it not too formal? It seems like a mouthful."

"Actually, formally talking about him or with him will require to add a Mr. before his name."

"I was wondering why he had a middle name," Hermione said. "I noticed that you two and Dumbledore have middle names, but not many wizards have."

"I can explain" Percy said. "In Helia and Neville's case, and Draco Cygnus Malfoy's, they are names from the Black family. It means they are the potential Heirs of the family. The Head, Sirius Black, is in Azkaban, because he was a dementor. Because he has no children, they are the next in line. Their names are proof of it. It happens when several families join together. For example, my complete name is Perceval Ignatius Weasley. My first name is from my father's side, and my second name is from my mother's side."

Apparently, because lots of people had died, many family branches had become extinct. They would be revived again, depending on who would be the chosen heir from the remaining members. Molly Weasley née Prewett had lost both her brothers. Until she officially gave the title to one of her sons, forcing him to branch out of the Weasley family to be a Prewett, all her children were potential heirs.

"But how come Dumbledore has so many other names attached to him?" Hermione continued. "That would mean he's the heir, or potential heir to many families. It seems like a lot of mixed blood."

"It's another story. It means there are other families that decided to make Albus Dumbledore their heir. They probably did it because of all his research work, or because he won against Grindlewald, or other wonders he did," Neville explained.

"Wow! That means I have to impress an old woman without a fortune if I ever want to get rich," Ron said. "Bill's the heir of Weasley and Charlie will probably become a Prewett, so I'm left with nothing…"

"That is also, little brother…."

"…that you have nothing for you!"

"Hey!"

Helia looked at the plates. They were now sparkling clean. She blinked. They were full of desserts. She helped herself to a treacle tart. It was so good! The talk about families had continued.

"My parents are muggles. So, the only way to get my name recognized is either to be famous, or to marry someone who has a name already?" Hermione asked.

"Basically, yes." Percy said. "But maybe your family isn't as muggle as you think? Some people discover than one of their ancestors is actually a squib. Claiming a lost name isn't uncommon."

"Neville? Which of my names is from the Black family? Dorea or Lily?"

"Dorea, of course. I don't know why your mother's name was added. Maybe she was also from a family? Genealogy will tell."

"I'm a Half-blood." Seamus said. "My mon's the witch and my dad's a muggle. She never told him she was a witch until after they were married. It was a shock for him!"

"He accepted it?" Helia asked with surprise. "My aunt and uncle loathe magic."

"Your aunt seemed a bit nice when I saw her," Neville said.

Helia wondered if he was for real. Well, Petunia had been a bit nicer this morning. She remembered the sandwiches and the conversation with Remus. On the other hand, Neville's Gran looked like a woman you shouldn't cross. She had told Helia she was rude, when really, she had no idea what to do.

"My family thought I was a squib for a long time. My great-uncle Alfie kept trying to see if I had magic in me all the time. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned. Nothing happened before I was eight, so they send me to this muggle school. Some old family members even thought of adopting another heir."

"How did they know you had magic in you?" Seamus asked. "Mine knew because I had blown things up in the yard."

"My great-uncle Alfie was holding me by the ankles out of the upstairs window, when my great-aunt Enid offered him a meringue and he accidently let go. Fortunately, I bounced back, and I flew to the ground. My Gran was so happy she cried, and my great-uncle offered me Trevor."

Seamus thought it was a lame gift. Helia wanted to agree, but since the Dursleys had given her q-tips as birthday gifts…

Her eyes drifted back to the Great Table, as she started to feel drowsy. Professor Quirrel has his back turned to her, speaking to a black-haired man. That man was suddenly glaring at her, as the headache the DaDa teacher seemed to bring around him pounded under her skill. It faded when she turned her head away.

"Who's that teacher near Professor Quirrell?" she asked the twins, everyone else being in a deep conversation.

"The one with the greasy hair?"

"And the hook nose?"

"And the nasty black eyes?"

"That's Snape."

"He teaches Potions."

"Actually, George, everything in him is nasty."

"Except the hair. They're just greasy."

"A greasy old nasty bat teacher, then."

"Looks like Quirrell is peeing his pants!"

"He knows Snape is coming for his job."

"That's because he's so dark."

He didn't seem old to Helia's eyes. He seemed as young as Professor Quirrell, actually. She observed him when he was not looking, the headache like an annoying pricking needle on a side of her brain. The Professor never looked back at her.

After the desserts disappeared, Professor Dumbledore asked for their attentions again. He reminded them that the forest near the school was forbidden to all students, except for some outings under a professor. Mainly detentions with Hagrid ended there, Fred and George explained. Magic was disapproved outside the classes or self-training. Quidditch trials were the second week of the term, and a list would be assembled by Mrs. Hooch, a professor with short dishevelled hair and yellow eyes. And apparently, this year only, half the third flood was out of bounds to anyone who didn't want a very painful death.

"Er…. Is he serious with all these threats? The forest and a corridor are deadly?"

"I think it's serious," Percy estimated. "Normally he says why it's forbidden. Like the forest is a reserve for magical creatures that can prove dangerous. It's odd that he didn't tell anyone about it, especially prefects."

"And now, before we go to bed, let's all sing the school song."

Her eyes widened. There was a song to know too?

"Everyone picks their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

Say what?

But already, most of the school was bellowing something about being taught equally. Nobody was in time. There didn't seem to have any correct notes. Helia looked at Hermione, who was singing something. She mouthed a questioning "what?" and the other girl shrugged helplessly. After everyone was done with it, only the twins were still singing their funeral march. Dumbledore even conducted their last few lines before applauding with the rest of the school.

"Ah, music," the headmaster said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!

Because their table was the closest to the door, Gryffindor first years followed Percy Weasley and the prefect girl through the crowd of the Great Hall. He led them to the marble staircases. Helia's legs were difficult to move. She was sleepy, and she was full of delicious meals. She was too tired to care about the moving portraits or see that the paths Percy took were hidden behind tapestries or sliding panels.

At one point, they were forced to stop, because a ghost, Peeves, was attacking Percy with candlesticks. As he went away after pranking them, Percy warned them about him. The only person to control him was the Bloody Baron, the ghost of Slytherin.

Finally, there was a portrait of a very fat woman with a cocktail pink dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis" said Percy and the portrait swung forward, revealing a round opening.

Gryffindor's common room was full of squashy chairs. Percy showed the girls their room. Their dormitory was divided in several rooms inside the tower. Inside Helia's room were Hermione Granger, Padma Patil and Lavender Brown. She also found Laudine sprawled across her bed. It was a four-poster bed with red curtains

"Is that your cat? So cute!" the blonde said. "Can I pet it?

Her trunk was already on the feet of her bed, with all her clothes hung in the wardrobe. Tiredly, she put her pyjamas on – an old t-shirt and a jogging, both from Dudley, and climbed inside the bed. She was asleep in no time.

She had a very strange dream that night. She was walking in Hogwarts, holding a boy's hand. She was trying to look at his face to guess who he was, but it was always impossible. She just knew that he was a little boy, and that for an unknown reason she wanted to call him Tom. So Helia and invisible-but-everywhere Tom were walking. And suddenly there was Quirrell's turban talking to her, but it was gibberish and words so complicated they made her head hurt. But the boy she never saw was nodding and suddenly led her to the dungeons. And there was Malfoy with the greasy-haired teacher that said she should be in Slytherin because of her ancestors. She told Malfoy she was a twat and it made Tom laugh with a high pitch voice. Everything was green and vivid.

She woke up covered in sweat, Laudine pushing her head with hers. The cat seemed satisfied but wound herself around Helia's ankles when she walked to the window to get some fresh air. Then she went back inside the covers, troubled. She didn't dream of Tom again.

The next day, whispers followed her every step. Their group of first years was rather large, but Helia wondered if they were all friendly, or if they were afraid to be left alone. Parvati and Lavender were both focused on fashion and boys, and they quickly shunned Hermione for her lack of interest. Helia was fairly sure they wanted to be around her because of the whole Girl-Who-Lived thing. She had been more comfortable when it had been just Neville, Ron and Hermione around her.

At breakfast, she was pleasantly surprised to receive owls. Percy told her it was usual on the first day to receive news from their family. The Weasley owl, Erroll, crash-landed on the corn flakes with their mom's letter.

The first owl she received was a dignified one from Gringotts.

 _Gringotts Wizarding Bank_

 _Magic Business Division_

 _Dear Miss Potter,_

 _We still have to hear from you regarding the investments of Potter Potions SA. We were expecting your visit in the month of August, before you started your term in Hogwarts._

 _Given the actual circumstances, we understand that you would be unable to properly manage your assets and your company. Unfortunately, because you gave no news, we must apply a special fee of 5% on every transition made by Potter Potions SA. We will maintain this fee until you, or your advisors reply to the several warnings we have sent previously._

 _To resolve the problems, please sent us the balance sheets, as well as the profit and loss accounts from the last 10 years. Gringotts will happily provide you with a trusted accountant to check the cash flows with you (he will be paid a flat rate coming from your family vaults, in order to avoid any malversation)._

 _If no action is taken by the bodies of your company by next month, please note that we will be forced to dissolve and liquidate Potter Potions SA. All your assets will be sold, and the money resulting from the sale will go exclusively to Gringotts. In that case other fees will apply, according to the infractions we will find into your consolidated accounts._

 _We look forward to your reply. Please reach to us by owl or floo as soon as possible._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Griphook_

 _Gringotts faithful employee_

Helia shuddered. She had no idea how to run a business, and the only person she could eventually ask was Uncle Vernon. She would write a reply another day. In the meantime, she read Charlie's letter with a smile on her lips. This time she could feed both of the prey birds and not ending attacked. She explained to Hermione what a Wombat penfriend was. The other girl seemed very interested.

 _August 30_ _th_ _, 1991_

 _Dear Helia,_

 _I was glad you didn't run away and replied. I heard that most Wombat first writers don't stay long. I hope you will. I guess you're now officially a first year in Hogwarts. What was your first impression? Pretty scary, right?_

 _Regarding the owl, some can be pretty mean after long hours of flight. The one your Mrs. Figg sent me was very nice. Actually, the very same Mrs. Figg sent me some cabbage-smelling cookies. Should I eat them? Are they edible? I'm too scared to try._

 _So, you lived among muggles your whole life, but you're actually a half-blood? That's not the most common, but that explains why they don't like magic. Especially if they lost your mother to You-Know-Who's troops (were your parents aurors?). Muggleborns are quite rare as well. I hope you're adjusting well. If not, you can reach out to my brothers. You can't miss them: they're the pack of redheads at Gryffindor table. That is, if you're not a Slytherin. I hope you're not. You might want to stop writing if you were… But if you are a Slytherin, please note that I am not a blood supremacist, and that I don't really care of the House you come from, now that I'm out of school. Romania's wizards come from Durmstrang a lot, and I had to revise my judgement about what was Dark, and what wasn't._

 _But if you're Gryffindor, please say so as well! I still want to know if we finally have a chance at Quidditch and at winning the House cup!_

 _Speaking of Quidditch, here's a simple resume (I don't know about muggle sports, so I can't compare). Each Quidditch team has 7 players. The aim is to score the more points. Players are divided in 3 categories, depending on the ball they should care about. Chasers pass the Quaffle around and try to send it inside the three goals protected by the guardians. Lots of things are permitted to get the ball from another player, and Chasers have an even more difficult job because of the Bludgers. They are enchanted balls that make the players fall out f their brooms. In each team, two Beaters have to make sure their players aren't hit by the Bludgers, and they try to send the ball on the other team's players. The last player is the Seeker. He plays with the Golden Snitch, a tiny ball that is difficult to see on the playground. Catching the snitch ends the game and gives immediately 150 points to the team who catches it._

 _Blood ancestry is very important to a lot of wizards. My family is considered as blood traitors because we didn't respect the conduct of normal elite pure-blood. My father is a muggle-lover, which is only an insult to those who despise muggles. I would be more in favour of a world that includes magical beings and people with a muggle background better. It's not because you look different that you are different. Blood-purists think the strength of magic is in the blood. But if you look at people like Professor Flitwick, who was a champion at duelling, I think blood has little to do with success_

 _Now, let's see the questions! I'll just put the number of the ones I want to discuss further, if that's okay with you._

 _1 – You family sounds tough. I hope your differences will be resolved later. Being separated from your family helps everyone find a new perspective on their problems. Cheer up! And it will be the same with finding friends as well. I'm sure you're being overly dramatic about your family._

 _2 – Please pick Quidditch (I'm not being influential at all)._

 _3 – So? What was the winning House in the end?_

 _5 – Emancipation doesn't really exist? Maybe you can find some family to adopt you? You'd need to show great grades first… But since you said you were famous I'm actually becoming curious. How come someone who is famous in the wizarding world ends up with muggles?_

 _7 – Did you have some bonding time with your aunt in the end?_

 _8 – Is muggle food that bad for preferring the food in Diagon Alley? Or did you go to a restaurant?_

 _9 – Never heard of them. I'll ask my Dad._

 _11 – That's actually a wise decision, to be famous thanks to something you did. Maybe you'll get there in the end. And it will probably be easier if you're already a celebrity._

 _13 – Greedy, aren't we? But… what's a fridge? I think a House Elf would be nice, but only old families have them._

 _14 – I can share my parents if you want. If they manage 7 children, they can add you to the list. My Dad would be thrilled to have someone around him who knows actual things about muggles. Plus, I think my Mom would love another girl in the family. Just be careful: she might try to push you into marrying Ron who's in your year if you're a good match._

 _15 – Send me good muggle books if you find some, and I'll send you wizards ones. Deal?_

 _I think we can agree that regular letters are better than extra-long ones. Please ask questions if you wish to, or simply tell me about your day. Every week is fine by me. If you do more, I'll probably whoop of joy, then. But, yes, as a responsible person who used to be a prefect, do your homework first (and I won't do them for you, even if you ask nicely)._

 _I hope you reply soon,_

 _Charlie_

* * *

 _What did you think of this chapter? Please tell me by PM or in the reviews.  
_

 _What about her dream ? Because I thought it was always strange that nothing apart from the Parseltongue, and later the emotional link between Harry and Voldemort, were the only traces of him being a Horcrux. What's your point of view?_

 _See you next week!_


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